Storm Before the Calm
by foreverafangirl93
Summary: my take on what happens after the Season 11 finale. Sam's missing. Dean and his mother are reunited.
1. Chapter 1

Storm Before the Calm

AN: Set after Season 11 finale. Any suggestions as to how this story should end are much appreciated!

Men of Letters, London Chapter

Basement, probably

 _London, England_

 _2:34 am_

He spits out blood onto the floor, looking at his capturer with nothing but poorly disguised disgust. A punch to his cheek nearly takes his breath away. Men of Letters may essentially be bookworms, but this nerdy dude can pack a major punch.

Sam groans but manages to glare at his attacker, "Dude, _seriously_. You need some better moves."

Sam shakes his head as if that'll help with the dizziness. He pulls at his restraints again, but it's useless. All four of his limbs are chained, his arms by chains on the ceiling and his legs by chains on the floor. He fights back a shiver, despite being half-naked, he doesn't want to give them the satisfaction.

"You will tell us everything," a foreign voice speaks, angrily, "you _will_."

Tell them what, Sam isn't sure. They won't _say_ anything other than spit out vague sentences in-between punching him.

Toni, the woman who shot him in the gut, wasn't exaggerating. The Men of Letters, London Chapter were extremely, uh, _concerned_ with Sam's behavior over the past several years. Dean's too, but, Dean, fortunately, or unfortunately, is dead.

"Whatever you say, pal," Sam says sarcastically, expecting another slap, punch, or whatever. He's not disappointed. This time, it's a mixture of punching and slapping.

He feels blood drip down his face, over his naked chest, and onto the floor. "I don't know what you're expecting from me," Sam snaps, "Dean's dead. I'm all that's left. So, if you're going to kill me…KILL ME."

"Killing you would be a mercy," the man speaks, but he's clearly aggravated that they aren't getting to him to break. He turns, going to talk to his supervisor at the end of the stairway across the room. Sam rolls his eyes, it's like they don't even know he spent nearly 200 years in Hell. Locked in a cage. With _Lucifer_ himself. They weren't going to "break him" by simply chaining him up and punching him around a little.

But, honestly, it is getting a little boring. The physical pain is easily managed, the crushing grief weighing on his chest, not so much. He wants his brother. He wants to go home. But, honestly, more than anything, he just wants this to be _done_.

If they kill him here, in this creepy ass, molded basement in fucking England, he can meet up with Dean—wherever the hell he is—and tell him _honestly_ that he didn't kill himself just because Dean died. He'll put up with Dean's mockery of getting ganked by a bunch of library nerds for eternity if they would just _kill him already._

* * *

Men of Letters bunker, United States Chapter

Staircase, War Room

Lebanon, Kansas

8:34 pm

Dean can't stop staring. Which is weird, he _knows_ he's being weird, but he can't stop. They're walking side by side down the steps and he really should be looking where he's going but he can't help it. _His mother is freaking_ alive.

"Dean, you're staring a hole right into my face," Mary laughs, and then looks at him playfully-seriously, "Do I have something on my face? Or, God, my teeth?"

Dean blanches at being caught in the act, "What? No, no, course not. You look great for a woman brought back to life after 30-odd years."

Mary tilts her head and analyzes him, reminding him so much of Sam that Dean can't help but smile. He suddenly can't wait for Sam to see her. To meet her. To _hug_ her. They reach the last step and Mary takes a look around. She lets out a whistle, turning to Dean.

"My boys have done good for themselves," She smiles, proudly, causing Dean to blush, before she frowns. She wrings her hands nervously, something he remembers her doing from when he was just a kid. No wonder she's nervous, she hasn't seen Sam since he was a baby. He puts an arm around her, kissing the top of her head.

"Let's go find my not-so-little brother, huh?"

Dean pulls away and calls out for his brother. That's when he sees the dried blood on the floor. His heart starts to beat fast in his chest as he pulls the gun out from the back of his pants.

"Dean, what's—"

"Shh," Dean says harshly, scanning the war room. His mother, a former hunter, takes the hint. He looks towards the steps by the library and his eyes widen. He walks towards it, reaching out to touch the sigil. His finger comes away clean, making him curl his fist in a ball. Whoever took his brother is long gone. He turns, looking at the dried blood that forms a line towards the door leading to the kitchen. He looks towards his mother, who is beyond worried. Dean swallows, "I think Sam's been taken."

"Oh, God," Mary's face pales, and she starts wringing her hands together again before pointing behind Dean, "Wait, but what's that? On the wall?"

Dean glances back at the sigil before looking back at his mom. He walks closer to her as he explains, "This may be a little…crazy," Mary shoots him a look, "I know, I know, but crazier than the stuff we normally hunt. This is a sigil… it keeps out angels."

Mary's eyes widen, then her eyebrows do the exact same thing that Sam's do when he's analyzing. It's freaky how much his mother and his brother are alike.

"Angels…" Mary says wistfully, shaking her head and putting her hands by her sides. She shakes herself as if psyching herself up. "The future is weird. Okay, so, now what?"

"Now…." Dean sighs, raking a hand through his short hair. His mind is in overdrive, wondering who the hell took his brother. " _Now_ , we call an angel to help us find Sam."


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Holy moly! I was not expecting that kind of response for this story. Y'all really blew me away :) Thank you, everyone, for being so nice in your reviews and if any of you have something you want to see happen, I'll be glad to possibly put it into the story!

Chapter 2:

Men of Letters, London Chapter

Still that damn basement

 _London, England_

 _5:03 am_

He hears footsteps coming from the stairs but doesn't bother lifting his head. He's completely drained of energy due to his bullet wound having made itself painfully present along with the other injuries sustained during his time in the basement. The footsteps stop when they're merely a few feet away from him.

"I, um, brought you water." A hesitant voice calls out of the darkness.

Sam snorts, in too much pain to care about attempting to dissect the tone, "Why? Is it poison? Wait, no. That would be too simple. Too quick of a death for the likes of a Winchester, right? How about you throw it on me and _then_ you electrocute me? That always seems to do the trick. Screw you."

He hears a shuffling and assumes the girl is going to leave. Good, he thinks, go.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry. This isn't… this isn't right."

Wait, that accent… is _American_.

Sam looks up, curious. She's slim and tall, not as tall as him, obviously, but still relatively tall. Her freckles stand out on her face, even in the dim moonlight shining down from the one window in the basement. Her ginger hair is down, in curly ringlets. She would've been cute if, you know, she weren't helping people keep him chained up in the basement in a foreign country.

"If you were really sorry, you'd either kill me or let me go. Honestly, I don't have a preference at this point." Sam says, monotone. The girl glances away, a blush coloring her cheeks. Sam sighs, feeling bad, even though _he's_ the one tied up like a monster. So, he mentally says screw it. If it's poisoned, it's poisoned. Literally nothing he can do about it. Besides, it'll get him to the rest of his family quicker. "Can I…can I have some of that?" he nods towards the bottle in her hands.

She looks at him, clearly relieved at being able to do something. "Of course."

She twists the cap open and holds it up to his lips. He nearly downs the bottle right then and there but realizes he'd have a bathroom issue if he did that, so he forces himself to take small sips. He turns his head away, indicating that he's done. She takes the bottle away, capping it. She looks hesitant, unsure. Sam wants to say something sarcastic or mean, just because he can.

Again, he's the one captured, but the girl just looks so…distraught, he can't bring himself to do it.

"What's your name?" Sam asks softly, tiredly, "and why are you here?"

"My name is Maggie," her voice shakes as she tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, "I'm apparently a legacy, but I don't…I don't want to be a part of something that does things like this." She nods towards him and looks at him again with so much sorrow, "I really _am_ sorry."

Sam swallows, "I know. It's okay."

Even though it's not, Sam feels as if he has to do something because he can't stand to see that look in her eyes. She's not that much younger than him, but he sees an innocence in her that he used to have. She swallows as if fighting back more words. Maggie merely nods before turning and running up the staircase.

He wonders if she even knows who he is or what he's done.

Eventually, he gives into the pain darkening the edges of his vision and his eyes drift shut.

 _"Dean, no!" Sam squealed, right before he's tossed through the air and landing in the water. He comes back up for air, glaring at his older and laughing brother. "Dude, not fair."_

 _"Dude," Dean teases him, mocking him for the way his voice squeaks due to puberty. He jumps in the pool, splashing Sam. When Dean comes up for air, Sam gives him the bitchface, but Dean merely grins._

 _A girl close to Dean's age walks by the edge of the pool, causing Dean to look away, checking her out. Sam takes advantage of the small opportunity by hopping onto Dean's back and the momentum plunges his older brother underwater. Sam quickly moves away, watching as Dean splutters as he comes up, coughing up water._

 _"You are_ _so dead_ _, squirt," Dean threatens, immediately swimming towards him. Sam's eyes widen as he laughs, trying to swim away quickly to the other end of the pool—_

 _The scene changes. The impala is parked in the middle of a field. It's late at night, way later than it should be for them to be out on any normal school night. However, that night isn't just another night. Their dad claims to be doing research for another hunt he has lined up, but they both know he's at a bar._

 _Sam's too busy looking at the stars to see what his brother's doing. Then, something cold is put in his hands. Sam looks down, shocked to see a beer. He's only 16. He looks up, seeing Dean's smirk._

 _"Bobby gave me my first beer when I was your age. I figured I'd return the favor." Dean opens his beer, prompting Sam to do the same. Dean tilts his, clinking it against Sam's, "Happy Birthday, Sammy."_

 _Sam grins, taking a sip of his beer, and says meaningfully, "Thanks, Dean."_

 _Dean rolls his eyes, "Whatever. Bitch."_

 _"Jerk."_

Sam comes out of his memories, wide-awake, as water splashes all over his face. He splutters, coughing. He blinks, looking up to see the same guy from yesterday hovering above him.

"You're going to talk today."

Sam gives him a cheeky grin, "You have any particular subject in mind, or—"

Sam's head snaps back and he knows for certain that his nose is broken. He had to give it to the librarian, that fucking _hurt_.

* * *

Men of Letters bunker, United States

Library

 _Lebanon, Kansas_

 _11:03 pm_

"Son of a _bitch_ ," Dean growls after Castiel finishes telling him and his mother what the angel witnessed merely hours before. Dean's fists clench of their own accord. Eventually, they unclench and he runs a shaking hand over his face. Images of a dead Sam flash before his eyes. At that moment, it's obvious just how old her oldest truly is. "Are you _sure_ you didn't hear her say anything? A name, maybe?"

"All she said was… hello." Castiel supplies, unhelpfully, "and then I was cast out."

Dean sighs, but it comes out as more of a grunt. He leans forward on the table, biting his lip and wondering what the hell they're supposed to do next.

"So," Mary speaks up, "you're an angel?"

Castiel looks at her, nodding, "Yes. I'm afraid we weren't properly introduced. I am Castiel. An angel of the Lord."

Okay, weird. Mary blinks, looking at Dean briefly before back at Castiel. "Mary Winchester. Nice to meet you."

"Likewise."

Mary sits up straight, "If you're an angel, does that mean you can possibly, I don't know, _track_ Sam?"

Castiel gives her a sad look, "Unfortunately, no. Whoever it was that took Sam knew what they were doing. I've searched, but there's no trace of him."

Mary's heart plunges in her chest and her face falls. She leans back in her chair, looking down at her hands.

"Hey," a soft voice gains her attention, causing her to look up. Dean gives her a half-grin, "We'll find him. We always do."

Dean reaches over and squeezes her hands. Mary merely nods, returning the half-grin.

So, they sit there. Brainstorming.

"What about… if Sam has something _on_ him? Could you track that?"

Dean had let her scroll through his pictures on his phone on the way to the bunker. (Her reaction alone had been worth it: " _This_ tiny thing is a _phone_?!") She noticed that Sam always seemed to have a bracelet or a watch of some sort in every picture. Dean as well.

Dean and Castiel's heads both snap towards her. She blushes under the sudden attention.

"It may be stupid, but I noticed in the pictures that Sam wears a watch or a bracelet of some sort—"

"On the contrary, it's a great idea," Castiel looks at her, eagerly, before looking at Dean. One blink is all it takes. "Wait, I can't get a read on any of his possessions. They probably destroyed them for this very reason." He pauses, "Dean….what about the amulet?"

Dean looks at the angel, then at his mother and then back at the angel, "I don't know, man. I think it's still in my room from our little pow-wow with Chuck."

"Why don't you go check?" Mary eagerly insists, not even knowing what significance this amulet holds, but wanting to find her youngest as soon as possible. Dean nods and gets up from the table. She watches as he makes his way down a hallway.

It isn't long before he returns, a smile on his face. Mary feels a swell of love so strong and fierce it nearly takes her breath away. That smile…that smile is familiar. Dean had the same one when he was four. When she told him he was going to be a big brother. At that thought, Mary suddenly has a lump in her throat.

They have to find Sam. They _will_ find Sam.

"I've never been happier to report that I don't have the amulet." Dean informs them, "Cas, do you think you can—"

Castiel vanishes, causing Mary to flinch. She doesn't know if she will ever get used to that. Not to mention the fact that her babies are officially all grown up. Men. Warriors. Men of Letters. She aches to research what exactly that means, but her motherly protectiveness takes precedence. Sam first, research later. Much later. When Sam is back where he belongs. She feels a sharp sting of remorse that John isn't with them.

"Do you think it'll really be this easy?" Mary stands up, looking up at her son, "Finding Sam?"

"Probably not," Dean lets out a bitter laugh, causing Mary to put a hand on his arm. He looks down at her, "but, _God_ , I hope so." Then, he admits, quietly, as he looks down and away from her, "I should've been here."

"Dean—"

"No, mom, you don't even… you don't even _know_." Dean says, weakly, but determined, "I should've _been_ here."

She doesn't really know what to say to that. It's true, she doesn't know what all has happened in her boy's lives. But, damn it, she will. One day, she'll know absolutely everything there is to know about them. Until then, however, she does the one thing she can do. Mary wraps her arms around her son.

It's a while before they pull away, but when Mary does, she notices Dean is giving her a loving look. She gives him one back and kisses his cheek. They go back to sitting quietly for an hour or so before Mary feels her eyelids start to droop. Her blinks are becoming few and far between. Coming back to life after all these years really takes it out of a girl.

"Mom, you want to—"

Her eyes snap open at his voice. She looks around before finding Dean sitting across from her, legs on the table and crossed at the ankles. Funny, she doesn't remember him even moving to the other side of the table. She fixes Dean with a motherly look and he closes his mouth.

When her eyelids start to betray her, _again_ , he convinces her to move to the living room to wait on Castiel. Mary sits on the couch, letting herself sink into the comfortable seating. She breathes out a sigh of relief.

"If I fall asleep, wake me up," Mary says as she lies down, and then hears Dean's soft laughter.

"Yeah, okay. _If_." Dean says sarcastically, draping a blanket over his mother, "get some sleep."

"Don't tell me what to do," she grumbles, adorably, "'m the parent here."

"You sure are." Dean says fondly, moving towards the chair located directly beside the couch. He puts his legs up on the coffee table and watches as his mother's breathing evens out.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

AN: hi! Sorry guys for the late posting! I had planned on uploading this earlier today, but I got called in for a job interview. At least it's with 30 minutes to spare...where I am, anyway. Anyway, hope y'all enjoy! (Sourthern belle here, so get used to a lot of 'y'alls' in my Author Notes :) )

Men of Letters, London Chapterhouse

Do we even need to say it?

 _London, England_

 _8:13 am_

The nerds are finally moving on from simple punches and slaps. Well, there's nothing simple about a _librarian_ throwing a punch so hard it breaks your nose. Honestly, Sam was impressed by that. The dude that did said punching weighs a whopping 100 pounds soaking wet and somehow, he managed to put a lot of force behind that punch.

So, finally, the asshats are moving onto what Sam likes to call "actual torture." This is made obvious because they've taken a break from knocking Sam around to roll a metal table filled with several elaborate torturing devices into the darkened basement. Even from his position at the end of the room, he can clearly make out what lies on the table. Some instruments he's seen before. Hell, some he's _used_ before. By the anxious look on their faces, he's fairly certain none of them know how to work them.

Or, how to even torture someone.

Seriously, all of the three guys in the room-two standing at the back wall, by the staircase, guarding, and one he recognizes from doing the punching and slapping who is looking over all the instruments-that are meant to be seen as "tough" and "scary" are all wearing sweater vests. And glasses. And looking really uncertain and suddenly real nervous about this entire situation. Sam can't blame them. He's nearly three times their size. If he somehow managed to get out of the chains, he could pummel them into oblivion.

A large knife collection catches Sam's attention.

"Ooh, someone's been watching _Chopped_. Nice knife set. I hope you know how to cook with a time limit and a lot of challenges. They can be a real bitch to chefs who aren't prepared."

The one who had been doing a lot of the beating looks up at him through his large rimmed glasses and glares at him, tightening a grip on one particularly painful looking device. One of the other boys walks up and puts a hand on his shoulder, whispering something. The guy looks at Sam, then at the guy before reluctantly dropping the device back onto the table with a clink.

Probably not the best idea to channel his brother at this moment, but, hey, Sam's feeling particularly reckless. After all, his brother's dead (for real this time), Castiel can't track him—of this, he's certain because there are hundreds of sigils on the walls of the basement. The walls he can see, anyway. Not to mention, the people who took him are Men of Letters, so they know what the hell they're doing when it comes to warding off supernatural beings—so, what, _exactly_ is he supposed to be fighting for?

His arms are aching from being stretched for so long, his gut and his head are both throbbing in time to his heartbeat and he's just so _goddamn_ tired of it all. Maybe if he riles the nerds up, they'll actually man up and just murder the hell out of him. Probably not, but it's worth a shot.

He can practically hear Dean rolling over in his grave. Oh wait, his brother doesn't _have_ a grave because he _blew up_. At that particularly horrific thought, Sam feels like either throwing up or sobbing. Maybe a little of both.

"Well, someone's particularly sassy today." A familiar British accent fills the room, causing Sam's smirk to fall. He watches as the girl descends from the stairs, stopping at the entrance. "Move aside boys, Sam and I need to have a little chat."

God. Seriously?

It's the same damn chick who shot him in the gut in the bunker. She's changed out of her other outfit and into something a lot more…comfortable. Leggings, a ragged looking tank top, and tennis shoes. Something she doesn't mind getting a lot of blood on, Sam realizes.

Whatever. Doesn't matter. All that Sam can think is _Dean's dead. Dean's dead. Dean's dead._

The boys move back to stand by the staircase, all three of them. One glaring at him, while the other two are checking out the girl who just walked in. Sam rolls his eyes.

"Remember me?" She asks.

He gives her a shit-eating grin, "Fuck you."

"Oh, good. I was scared you might have forgotten me already." Toni gives him a grin right back before frowning and opening her mouth.

"Look," Sam interrupts, "if this is the part where you go on a monologue about how much wrong I've done and how much I need to atone for my sins, let's just skip it. Honestly, you've been in here two seconds and your accent is already giving me a headache. Let's just move along to the killing portion of this hostage situation, okay?"

She says nothing for a moment, merely looking him over.

"Wow. There it is. The typical Winchester bravado manifesting into suicidal tendencies," She sounds as if she's reading straight out of a book, "I never thought I'd live to see it in person…what with you and your brother _constantly_ putting each other before the entire world. 7 _billion_ lives, Sam. That's how many people you and your brother condemned to death-or worse- just to save each other. And not just once, mind you. Over and over and over again you two went. Sacrificing the whole world just to have your brother back. It would be touching if it wasn't so bloody selfish."

Sam's not stupid. He knows that he and Dean have pulled a lot of stupid shit over the years to save each other. Now, it's no longer an option.

"I guess you don't have to worry about that anymore, Dean's dead. For good, this time."

"So you'd like me to believe," Toni narrows her eyes at him, looking him over, "While I do believe that Dean is dead, I find it very hard to believe you aren't willing to do something idiotic _again_ to save your brother. So, tell me, Sam. What were you planning this time before I shot you?"

"Nothing," Sam admits, much to her surprise, his voice breaking. He swallows, shaking his head as he looks down at the floor, "I would do _anything_ to save him, but… I can't. Not this time."

Billie the reaper's words are playing in his head, on loop. They have been, since the minute the sun brightened in the sky. The second he knew his brother was gone.

 _You and Dean. Dying and coming back… again…and again and again._

 _What lives, dies. So, the next time either you or your brother bite it… Well, you're not going to Heaven. Or Hell. One of us, and Lord, I hope it's me, will make a mistake and toss you out into the Empty._

 _Nothing_ _comes back from that._

"Why is that, exactly?" She walks closer to him, stopping when she's at the metal table. She glances over the devices before looking up at him. "Have you finally learned your lesson?"

He scoffs, looking away.

"Now, now, don't be shy, Sam. We're all friends here-"

"Last time I checked, _friends,"_ Sam emphasizes the last word with disgust as he rattles his arm chains, "Don't do _this_ to each other."

"Well, in any case, it doesn't matter what you _would_ do. All that matters is that you won't. You're not leaving here until your heart stops beating. Until I see the _light_ go out in your eyes. The final curtain on your sad, pathetic existence."

"Well, I gotta say, you paint a very lovely picture of my death. Thank you," Sam says, sarcastically, "Why don't we just get the show on the road, then? Why wait for the inevitable?"

Toni steps even closer to him, eyes narrowing, "You don't think you deserve this?"

"Oh, I know I do. Believe me," Sam replies, swallowing in an attempt to moisten his dry throat, "but, you know, I have other things to worry about."

Like, getting to the Empty and finding Dean. He doesn't care if they can't come back. He just needs to find his brother.

"Right." Toni scoffs, "In any case...before you actually do die, for the final time, I might add, we need information."

"That's exactly what your boy-genius' over there have been trying to get out of me," Sam rolls his eyes, "questioning me in very vague, cryptic ways. I gotta say, they're not the brightest."

"Well, trust me, Sam, after I'm done, you'll be wishing you had the boy genius'." She flashes him a creepy, knowing smile, causing a shiver to run through him. He fights to keep it from showing, even though he's exhausted and can barely hold his head up. "Now, tell me what you know."

"Oh good, this again. _Please_ , be vaguer."

"Last chance, Sammy. Before I bring out the big guns."

"Lady, I have _no idea_ what you're- you know what?" He locks eyes with her, glaring, "Bring it."

If anything, it'll get him at least somewhat closer to seeing his brother again.

* * *

Men of Letters bunker, United States

Kitchen

 _Lebanon, Kansas_

 _2:13 am_

 _"Dean! Dean!"_

 _Dean looks up from where he's reading a comic book on the couch to see his floppy haired, dork of a brother coming into the motel-of-the-month from school._

 _"Hey, squirt."_

 _Sam gives him a grin, dimples, and everything, and plops down on the couch next to him._

 _"Good day?" Dean asks, looking back at the comic._

 _"The best! We got to see lions and tigers and birds and…and it was_ _so_ _fun, Dean! We even got to-" Sam continues rambling on about the field trip, excitedly. Dean smirks behind the comic book, relieved that it had been worth the argument he had gotten in with his father just to hear his brother talk so excitedly about something. Then, the rambling suddenly stops._

 _"Why, Dean?"_

 _Dean doesn't bother looking up from the comic book at Sam, "Why what, Sam?"_

 _"Why aren't you looking for me, Dean?"_

 _The deep voice causes Dean's blood to run cold in his veins. His eyes immediately snap up. Suddenly, Sam is no longer an 8-year-old, but a 33-year-old man. Same floppy hair, but instead of talking excitedly, his brother has a pained look on his face._

 _"Why aren't you looking for me, Dean?" Sam says, accusingly._

 _Blood starts to leak from Sam's eyes, nose, ears, and mouth. It even starts to pour downwards from his hairline, covering him in copious amounts of blood. Dean's eyes widen in shock and he moves to help his brother. As he does, Sam disappears into thin air._

Dean bolts upright in the chair, chest heaving.

 _Why aren't you looking for me, Dean?_

He rubs at his face, attempting to get that image of Sam out of his head. He glances at his watch and then jumps up. He looks at the couch and notices his mother isn't there. Sighing, he moves towards the library. It's been hours. Surely, Castiel has something on Sam.

"Cas? Cas, are you here?"

aka did you find my brother?

Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

Typical.

Dean sighs, turning into the kitchen and then stops cold. Because there, in their kitchen, acting as if she owns the place is his mother. Standing at the stove, twirling a wooden spoon in a pot full of… Dean sniffs as a familiar scent washes over him.

"Dean, you're up. Good. I made…whatever meal you want to call this." She gives him a grin and shrugs, "I remember you used to beg and beg and _beg_ me to make this constantly. You were so annoying."

"hey, I was annoying for a good cause." Dean's stomach rumbles and he gives her a slight grin, "Your food could cure any illness."

He sits at the table and Mary comes over with a bowl filled to the top with tomato rice soup. Dean breathes in before immediately diving into the soup. Mary had turned around to get him a drink so when she turns back around, she notices him going to town. She laughs and places a glass of milk on the table. Dean briefly looks up before returning his eyes to the meal as he eagerly devours the entire bowl within minutes.

"Well? How is it?"

"You still got it," Dean laughs, then turns serious. "Thanks," He says softly.

Mary rolls her eyes and pats his hand gently, "You don't have to thank me, Dean. I'm your mother."

"Dean."

Dean and Mary both jump and see Castiel standing in the middle of the kitchen.

"Anything?" Dean asks, eagerly, but then he takes in Castiel's solemn expression. "What?"

Castiel looks briefly from Mary then to Dean, "What do you know about other chapters of the Men of Letters?"


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

AN: Thanks for all the reviews, follows and favorites :) This chapter is a bit short, but hopefully I can make it up to y'all in the next one! So sorry, guys! i accidentally put Tori instead of Toni so I had to reupload this!

Men Of Letters, London Chapterhouse

Basement

 _London, England_

 _9:15 am_

"You know, it doesn't have to be like this." She pauses, pulling the taser away from Sam, "if you'd just tell me what I want to know, that is."

Sam's body is shaking violently like he's having a damn seizure, which is probable considering the fact that she's tased him close to 6 or 7 times now. His heart pounds painfully in his chest as he swallows back the bile rising in his throat. He's panting with effort as his head hangs so far down that it's nearly touching his chest. He no longer has a witty comeback to anything she says. It's taking too much of an effort for him to try to stay conscious.

"Aw, come on now," Toni says, pouting, "where's the banter you were spitting out earlier? I was _so_ enjoying it."

She touches him with the taser, again, causing his body to go rigid and coiled tight with pain as it violently shakes. He clenches his eyes closed and bites back a groan, knowing that will only give her satisfaction. She pulls it away quicker, this time, letting Sam have one moment-one literal breath- of reprieve before doing it again.

"I…don't…know…" Sam manages when she pulls it away again, "what the hell…you're going on about."

Toni lets out an aggravated groan before muttering something Sam knows isn't meant for him, "This is taking too bloody long."

He hears her walk back over to the table, throwing the taser on it. Sam manages to look up, through his sweaty hair. She's walking towards the staircase, hurriedly.

"Don't go anywhere," She calls to him, chuckling to herself.

"You're a real comedian," Sam whispers, closing his eyes as he tries to steady his breathing.

 _Dean walks up to him, the car keys jingling. Sam can't even look at him. If he does, he knows he'll break down. He knows he'll beg him not to do it._

 _"Come on, you know the drill," Dean says, causing Sam's throat to nearly close up, "No chick flick moments, come on."_

 _Dean himself sounds like he's barely holding it together and, in the end, that's what causes Sam to rally. As best he can, anyway._

 _So, he takes the keys from Dean and says a lame joke as he avoids eye contact, "Yeah, you, uh, love chick flicks."_

 _It says a million things that Sam can't say._

 _Like, I love you._

 _I'll miss you._

 _Goodbye._

 _Dean gets it. He always gets it._

 _"Yeah, you're right, I do. Come here."_

 _10:45 am_

Sam is startled back to consciousness by the sound of loud footsteps on the stairs. He doesn't bother looking up, but he can easily tell that it isn't Toni. Probably one of her goons coming in to inflict some more torture. However, to his surprise, the footsteps falter at the end of the stairs and there's a breathy gasp. Then, whoever it is, hurries back up the stairs. Sam swallows before realizing that whoever just entered the basement left the door opened at the top, letting Sam hear the entire conversation that's taking place.

"Antonia, what in the _bloody hell_ is this?"

A man, Sam realizes.

"Father! What are you-"

Father? Another Man of Letters.

" _Antonia Marie Bevell,_ what in God's name are you _doing_? There's a young man _shackled_ in the basement. Looking as if a bloody werewolf has gotten into him. Tell me you didn't do this to him."

A Man Of Letters who clearly was NOT in the know of the plan to kidnap and torture him.

 _"_ I can explain-"

"You told me you were done," a harsh voice interrupts her, "with this…this _crusade_ of yours!"

"I was!" Toni exclaims, "I _was_ , but-"

"But what?!"

"But I got a lead. A very reliable lead, obviously. It led me right to him!"

"To _who_? Who is this young man in the basement, Antonia?"

Sam lifts his head up at that.

Toni hesitates before answering, "Sam Winchester."

"Sam-Antonia, tell me you did _not_ kidnap and bloody torture Sam _fucking_ Winchester?!"

Toni pauses before saying, "You can't tell me you don't want _justice_! That you don't want to know for _certain_ -"

"Not like this I don't!" Her father exclaims, "Bloody Hell, Toni. You've…you've gone bloody _barmy_ is what you have. _Again_."

"Father, I'm not- where are you going?!" Toni's panicked voice is closer to the stairs now right as there are thunderous steps on the staircase.

"I'm going to fix this colossal fucking clanger of yours."

Footsteps enter the basement and Sam lowers his head back down.

"Sam?" a hesitant, British, male voice asks.

Sam swallows and says nothing. A hand on the chain on his left foot rattles. Someone curses.

"That daughter of mine, I _swear_ ," the voice says, then asks again, softer, "Sam?"

"Daddy, no!"

Then, suddenly, Sam's left leg is free, then his right leg. It's amazing. It's magical. It's _freeing_.

Sam lifts his head, locking eyes with a man with short silver-white hair and a beard. Colonel Sanders, Sam wants to call him sarcastically but doesn't.

"Who're…who're you?" Sam asks, closing his eyes momentarily at the sudden feeling of dizziness. He's not completely with it, what with having been tased nearly a dozen times.

"I'm here to fix my daughter's mistake as well as save your arse," the man's voice is kind, so unlike that of his daughter's. He moves to unlock Sam's arms when his daughter calls out again. Begging.

"Daddy, _please_ -"

" _Antonia_ ," the man snaps, turning to face her, "shut the bloody hell up. You have no _idea_ what you've done. The elders are going to be downright pissed at this- at _me_ \- already. Thank god you haven't actually killed him. Now, you either help or get the hell out of the way."

"The elders are the ones who called me!" Toni exclaims, eyes wide, "They _wanted_ me to take him in!"

Her father gives her a confused look, "That's bloody well unlikely, isn't it? Considering everything you've done." He pauses, then says, hesitantly, "Toni, have you been taking your medication?"

Toni's face turns stormy and her posture turns defensive as she folds her arms across her chest, "Not that it's any of your business, _father_ , but yes. I have."

Her father merely shakes his head, "Unbelievable, Toni. I thought you were getting better. Especially what with-"

The older man turns back around, lifting his arms to place the key to begin unlocking Sam's shackle on his left wrist. Sam watches as Toni swallows, unfolding her arms and reaching into the back of her leggings. Through his blurry eyes, he can tell that she's about to do something she doesn't want to do. Sam opens his mouth to warn the older man, but he's too late. Toni's arm swings and the gun she's holding connects with the back of her father's head, causing him to collapse onto the ground, unconscious.

"Sorry, Daddy," She whispers, gripping the gun tighter, "but I can't have you ruining my- _our_ \- plan."

 _Holy fuck_ , Sam thinks.

* * *

Men of Letters bunker, United States

Library

 _Lebanon, Kansas_

 _4:45 am_

"Dean, I'm not asking."

Dean let out a growl of frustration, barely keeping himself from slamming his hands on the library table, "Mom, I'm-"

"You are _so_ not fine, so don't even bother trying to feed me that line of bullshit." Dean looks up at her in surprise at her cussing, she merely stares back, "Go. Now. Castiel and I have got this." She gestures to the laptops in front of the angel and herself, as well as the mountain of case files spread out on the library table.

Dean looks away from her and at Castiel, who merely gives him an awkward grin and a thumbs up. That's not reassuring at all so, he doesn't move. This prompts Mary to say in a much calmer, softer, _motherly_ voice, "Dean, baby, you need a shower. I know you do. 5 minutes, that's all I ask."

Her eyes - _Sam's_ eyes - stare right through him. Dean sighs and reluctantly gets up from the chair. He goes to his bedroom, gets his clothes and heads to the bathroom.

Meanwhile, Mary and Castiel are going through any possible evidence that suggests that there are, in fact, other chapters of the men of letters that are still institutionalized.

Castiel had reported back, hours ago, saying that he found the amulet laying in the parking lot of an airport. An _abandoned_ airport. After a thorough investigation of said airport, Castiel had been willing to give up and head back to the bunker when he noticed something on the ground. Something, shiny and old.

A locket.

A locket with the Men of Letters symbol etched into the back of it.

A locket that had never been produced in America, according to Google.

But, helpfully, the locket enclosed a picture of a young girl with her mother.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

AN: So sorry everyone! I've been out of town due to job interviews and I only recently got back! I hope y'all like this chapter, i know i enjoyed writing it. :)

Men of Letters, London Chapterhouse

Basement

 _London, England_

 _12:27-noon._

"Mummy? Mummy, are you home?" a small voice calls out from above them, getting closer to the basement door. A small cough before it says again, weaker, "Mum?"

"Shit. Where the bloody hell is Dorothy?" Toni mutters as she quickly finishes tying her father's hands to a pole just underneath the one window in the entire basement. She pulls at the rope, testing it to make sure her father won't be able to get out of it and stands up, wiping her sweating brow. She glares at Sam, "I'll be back."

Toni rushes away, up the stairs and slamming the door behind her. She feeds her son his favorite meal before helping to settle him into bed, complete with several of his latest comic books. Just as she's tucking him into bed, her phone starts going off with a familiar ringtone. She quickly kisses him on the head before leaving the room and pulling her phone out of her back pocket.

* * *

 _Undisclosed Location_

A man dials in a number into his IPhone puts it to his ear. He puts his feet on the desk in front of him, slowly twirling his glass of whiskey.

One ring.

Two rings.

He knocks back the glass and throws it against the wall.

Three rings.

He's just about to completely lose his shit when the familiar British voice answers.

" _Elder Cambridge, I'm so sorry I'm late. Father came in and started going off on me about-"_

"Enough with the Soap Opera Digest. Did you get them or not?" He asks, eagerly, as he fakes the British voice brilliantly.

 _"Of course, I did. I have the tall one locked away, chained up in the basement just like you suggested." Toni responds, eager to please._

"Just the tall one? What about the short, spiky-haired one with a Devil May Care attitude?"

 _A slight pause, then a hesitant voice responds, "Sam said he's dead."_

A man pulls the phone away from his ear and glares at it. He mouths a couple curse words before breathing heavily and putting the phone back by his ear. Humans. What morons.

He spent several centuries in Hell, but he remembers a time when he too was as moronic as she is.

"You _believed_ him?" a man says angrily, shaking his head in disappointment, gripping the phone tighter, "You're an idiot. The Winchesters are never really dead." He sighs again, rubbing at his face, "At least you did one thing right. You have Sam. Now, we just need to find Dean."

 _"I'll get the truth out of him eventually."_

The man snorts, knowing that that would be impossible, "Right, well, good luck with that. I'll see what I can find out. You stick with the plan."

 _"Sir, if you don't mind me asking, what exactly is your…your problem with these two?"_

"Besides the obvious codependency issue that we've already discussed?" He takes his feet off the desk and rises, stepping over the several dead bodies in his way as he makes his way to the bar in the middle of the room. He glances at the mirror hanging above said bar, smirking as his once blue eyes flash black, "They did me -I mean, the _world_ , wrong. And they will pay."

 _"But-"_

"No more questions, Antonia," the man growls, "I'm not the sharing and caring type. Do you want to find that spell book or not?"

 _"Of course, I do!" Toni instantly responds as he knew she would._ Humans are gullible...vulnerable, especially when it comes to those they love. Especially Men of Letters. Or, well, Women of Letters.

"Well, then, this is what it'll take. Sam _and_ Dean freakin' Winchester. I'll check in in a few days. Meanwhile, don't kill him until I get there."

He hangs up before she can say anything.

"I think it's time for a little… _family reunion_."

* * *

Men of Letters, London Chapterhouse

Basement

 _London, England_

 _12:48 pm- noon_

His kidnapper/torturer is a _mother_. He shakes his head at that thought but stops when it makes his vision swim. He's suddenly no longer certain if he can keep the nausea at bay.

A few more minutes pass before Sam hears the tell-tell signs of someone waking up. A moan, then a grunt.

"What the-"

"She tied ya up pretty good," Sam interrupts, tiredly, looking over at the other captive.

"So I noticed," the man grunts, before plopping back onto the pole. The old man looks at Sam, sympathetically, "For what it's worth, I'm terribly sorry for my lunatic of a daughter."

"I've been through worse," Sam gives him a half-grin.

"I know. All the Men of Letters know the tales of Sam and Dean Winchester." He gives Sam a polite grin, "I don't wish to be impolite, but, if you don't mind me asking, where is that brother of yours? We're told one Winchester brother is not typically too far behind the other. Especially in situations like the one you're in."

Sam looks away, swallowing, "Dean's dead."

"Oh," Timothy says quietly, "I'm terribly sorry to hear that."

"Are you?" Sam demands, a bit rougher than he intended, "Are the Men of Letters? Because your crazy ass daughter mentioned otherwise."

"My…crazy ass daughter, as you so eloquently put it, is not in her sound mind," Timothy says, calmly, "She's no longer a part of the institution."

"Then, why-" Sam begins.

Timothy rolls his eyes, squirming against the pole, "It's quite a story. Remind me to tell you one day after we get out of here."

A door opens from above them. Footsteps get closer.

"Oh. Daddy. You're awake already." Toni approaches the end of the stairs, stopping on the last step. She sighs before walking into the basement, over to the small table of torture devices.

"Yes, darling, it seems that way, doesn't it?" Timothy says, sarcastically, "Now, would you mind untying me?"

"Why exactly would I do that?" She asks, not even looking up, "Especially after everything you did."

"Everything _I_ did?" Timothy exclaims, shaking his head, "Antonia, you've gone absolutely-"

"Mad, yes. So you've said," Toni snaps, but looking up and glaring at her father, "I find it very hard to believe that all of a sudden you don't want to find a cure."

"I do, my dear. My heart aches every day that I have to watch Harrison go through what's happening, but… it's not right, Toni. We've looked for a cure. Believe me, we've searched high and low, but it doesn't exist. You _know_ it doesn't-"

"How dare you," Toni interrupts, sneering, "the whole fucking reason Harrison is going through what he's going through is because of _you_. You and the people like you." She takes the time to glare at Sam so hatefully he can feel it deep within his soul. "The least you can do for your grandson is help get him the cure that he needs."

Sam watches with interest, wondering what exactly it is that Toni is referring to when she says the cure. Daughter and father face off, neither blinking, neither moving.

Timothy is the first to look away, causing Toni to growl and slap the instruments across the room.

"You're a _coward_ ," Toni says, voice trembling.

"I know what happens when you try to force dark magic on a child," Timothy gravelly says, "it never works out well. For _anyone_." Timothy glances at Sam, apologetically.

"So says you," Toni says, voice drained and energy spent. She breathes heavily, rubbing at her face before sparing a glance at Sam. Then, without a word, she turns and leaves the basement.

"What cure is she talking about?" Sam finds himself asking, his curiosity peaked. His conscious tells him not to care. His brother is dead. Why should he care? He should just let this lady do whatever the hell she wants to do.

Timothy sighs, "I suppose I should start from the beginning. Toni has never been…completely there. Her mother and I, Margaret, were very involved in the Men of Letters. Margaret is, was, the first Woman of Letters, London Chapter. She was in the field, carrying Toni at the time, when she got into a car accident. Toni lived, obviously, but my Margie didn't. Toni hasn't ever forgiven herself, but she was trying. She was seeking help until she met the _man of her dreams_ ," Timothy says this last part bitterly, scowling, "Harry, whom her son is named after, was a total arse. Not fit to be a father or a husband, for that matter. He left her and the boy when he was barely 2 months old.

Harrison, her son, was hit by a dark matter energy ball when he was a mere toddler. The three of us were just leaving the park. We weren't supposed to be out. There was a call of high supernatural activity that day, but Harry was getting fussy about having to be indoors all the time. I convinced Antonia that the air would be good for the boy, which, it was, but it turned into a total disaster. We were just about here when the witch came out of nowhere and…and cast a spell on us. As it turns out, this particular witch had a thing for children. Unable to have any herself, she cast spells on those who had children so they would know what it feels like to be childless. There was nothing we - the institute - could do. We looked through all the archives. There was nothing. There is nothing, here, anyway. Toni completely lost it. So much so, she had to be institutionalized….she recently got out. I've talked with her, she was supposedly dealing with it…coming to terms with it."

Timothy shakes his head sadly at the end of his speech, breathing slightly heavily.

"Wow," is all Sam says. It takes all the energy he has. He blinks to keep himself from giving into the pain. "I'm so sorry."

"As am I, for all this. She should have never involved you." Timothy says softly, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the pole, "She wants to know about a spell book." The older man sounds just as exhausted as Sam feels, if not more so.

"Spellbook?" Sam finds himself asking before he can even think about it.

"I'm not sure the exact title of it. I just know that it's a very powerful, very dark magic spellbook. Said to have been used in ancient times for the removal of illnesses. Except…he's not suffering from an illness."

"He's suffering from a dark curse," Sam says, frowning, "You really think that spell book won't be able to help?"

"Sam, that spell book doesn't _exist_. We've contacted everyone we know. We've used every resource imaginable to try to find my grandson a cure or at least prolong the inevitable," Timothy's voice trembles, "but it _doesn't_ exist and my daughter is still on a wild goose chase in an attempt to avoid accepting his fate."

Sam wants to say something, he knows he needs to. Timothy doesn't seem as batshit crazy as his daughter. He's just…sad and acceptant of his grandson's fate. His vision darkens and it puts up a much more persuasive argument so he passes out.

 _He's in the Impala. The only real home he's ever really known. He sits up from his position leaning against the window and looks around. Through the windshield, there's nothing but an empty highway. The car's parked in the middle of the road. He immediately looks to the driver's seat, which is, surprisingly empty. Sam feels his heart fall to his stomach._

 _"Dean," He mutters quietly as if saying his brother's name will give him solace or peace or whatever the hell he's looking for in this dream. Because he knows it's a dream. Ever since the whole vision situation with Lucifer, he's had a pretty easy time distinguishing reality from visions or dreams._

 _It doesn't work. Just when he's thinking of drastic things to get himself to wake up, the driver's door squeaks open, causing him to jump in his seat._

 _"Dude, you seriously think I'd just abandon you in the middle of damn nowhere?"_

 _Sam's eyes are suspiciously blurry and he has to swallow twice before he can even get words out._

 _"You act as if you haven't done it before," Sam laughs, ignoring when it comes out rougher than intended, "Remember that hunt in Minnesota?"_

 _He's staring a hole in his brother's face, but he can't help it. Dean's healthy and alive and whole and everything's perfect._

 _Dean barks out a laugh, "Man, yeah. Dude, you were so pissed."_

 _"Maybe because you drove off after I filled up the gas tank, leaving me stranded in the middle of a hick town in the middle of a snowstorm." Despite recalling an event that had once truly pissed him off to no end, Sam's smiling. He's just so damn glad to see his brother. Alive. Not blown into teeny, tiny pieces._

 _"I came back!" Dean defends himself before laughing again, shaking his head and giving Sam a fond look, "You know what? I think it's about time I just give you that one. That was a real dick move."_

 _"Really?" Sam asks, eyebrows raised, before narrowing his eyes, "That was easy. Too easy. What do you want? And, before you ask, you can't use my laptop. There's only so many viruses from porn sites a laptop can take, dude."_

 _Sam is expecting another witty comeback. Another sarcastic remark. Anything but what he gets._

 _"I want you to come back." Dean says seriously, looking him straight in the eye "I can't do this without you."_

 _For a moment, Sam is flummoxed. Come back? What in the hell is that supposed to mean?_

 _"Uh, okay," Sam says hesitantly, thinking that now would d actually be an excellent time to wake up before this dream turns into a nightmare. He closes his eyes tight then reopens him._

 _"Still here," Dean says except now they're both leaning against the Impala and it's night. Dean hands him a cold beer then takes a pull out of his, "I don't know how much time we got, Cas wasn't exactly specific….you need to know something, Sam. This isn't a dream. Well, it is, but…" Dean sighs, obviously frustrated with himself, before he starts over, "you remember the dream root hunt?"_

 _Sam blinks, clearly stunned, "uh, yeah…"_

 _"Cas got a hold of some. We, uh, used some of your girly hair from your hairbrush and I'm just going to say it now: hair is not meant to eaten. I don't know how cats do it, honestly."_

 _Dean makes such a typical disgusting face that Sam can't help but feel relaxed and laugh. This…this is his brother. He doesn't know how, but it is._

 _"Wait, so…you're-" Sam starts._

 _"Not dead? Yeah, I'm still kicking, thanks to Amara. I'll fill you in on that later, though. Right now, you need to tell me everything you know about where you are."_

 _Sam lets out a breath, letting the information sink in. He takes a pull from his dream beer and glances at his brother, who's looking at him, expectantly._

 _"You know, in the Cage," Sam's man enough to admit that his voice shakes a little on that last word, he looks away from his brother, towards the night sky, "Lucifer could imitate a lot of people. Jess. Bobby….Dad." Sam pauses, looking back at his brother as if evaluating him, "but he could never imitate you. Something was always…off." He pauses, before adding, "So, you're not Lucifer."_

 _Dean lets out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, "No, I'm not Lucifer." he gives Sam a grin, "I'm just your badass older brother's who's going to seriously kick somebody's ass for taking you. Now-"_

 _Sam rolls his eyes, "Alright, already. I'm pretty sure this dream doesn't end until I really do want it to, from what I remember about the dream root. Or, unless, I'm made to wake up from….you know, outside parties."_

 _Dean glowers, "Outside parties better watch their asses."_

 _"I'm in a basement," Sam says, that 'I'm puzzled but I'm going to figure it out even if it kills me' look on his face and Dean gets a strong wave of nostalgia. He remembers a young teenage Sam getting that same look. "One window. I…she…she took me on a plane. You're not going to believe this, but, I'm in fucking London, dude."_

 _"Well, you always said you wanted to go abroad," Dean deadpans, "Anything else? This girl have a name, perhaps?"_

 _Sam opens his mouth to tell him, but his beer suddenly slips through his fingers and falls into the grass._

 _"Sam?" Dean's voice sounds like it's coming from underwater. Sam looks down at his chest, pressing a hand against his gut before pulling it back and looking at the blood-stained hand. He can feel his heart racing in his chest, the blood suddenly pouring from the wound in his gut. He grunts, suddenly falling sideways off the car. Strong arms wrap around him, helping lower him to the ground. He looks up, locking eyes with his brother as he pants for breath._

 _"It's going to be okay," Dean's saying, muttering useless comforting words until Sam feels himself fade away. Back to reality. "Everything's going to be alright."_


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

AN: SURPRISE. I owed y'all a chapter, so here ya go :)

* * *

Men of Letters bunker, United States

Dean's Bedroom

 _Lebanon, Kansas_

 _7:20 am_

Dean gasps, drinking in the air like it's going out of style. He stares up at the familiar ceiling, watching the ceiling fan go around as he tries to calm his pounding heart.

"Dean?" Mary asks, hesitantly, putting a hand on his arm, "Are you okay? Is he okay?"

She directs the last question to Castiel, who's standing on the other side of him. Castiel places two fingers on Dean's forehead, calming him. Dean sighs as he relaxes onto the bed.

"Thanks, Cas." Dean sits up, rubbing his forehead. He swallows, fighting back the sick feeling he has at the memory of seeing his brother like that. Bleeding out, in his arms. Again.

"So?" Mary asks, eagerly, "What happened?"

"I saw Sam," Dean gives his mother a slight smile, "it was great…"

"until?" Castiel asks, "Dean, what happened?"

"We were just talking, he told me he's in a…a basement. In fucking England." Dean barks out a bitter laugh, "As if there aren't a thousand of those in the damn country. And then, then just before he's going to tell me the bitch's name, he passes out. In my arms."

"He technically was just waking up," Castiel mends, "he's fine, Dean."

"yeah, okay," Dean says sarcastically, looking away as he moves to the side of the bed, putting his feet on the ground. "If you call bleeding from a gunshot wound in the middle of the dream, fine."

 _Gunshot wound_?! Mary, wonders, but doesn't say out loud. _That bitch is dead_.

"Are you sure you should be up so soon after that?" Mary questions, worriedly, "You don't look so great."

"Of course, I don't look so great, mom!" Dean explodes, glaring at her, "My little brother's missing, bleeding out and tortured probably for God knows what and we still don't even really know where he is! I'm a fucking mess, but talking about being said fucking mess isn't going to help Sam."

He stands up, storming out of his room. He instantly feels regret at blowing up at his mother as soon as he enters the hallway, but he keeps going. Sam needs him.

* * *

Men of Letters, London Chapterhouse

Basement

London, England

1:20 pm

"Daddy?" a hesitant voice calls out, panicked. "What the-who did this to you?"

The voice rouses Sam from his slumber, causing him to groan in pain. He looks up, watching as Maggie, the girl who had brought him water earlier runs toward Timothy. She crouches down next to him, looking at him, worriedly.

"It's nothing to worry about, dear. Your sister and I are just having a little spat-"

"A little-?! Dad, this isn't a little _spat_! She's got you tied up like you're an animal! I'm getting you out of here."

"And what about Sam? Hmm? You planning on leaving him down here, too?"

"Dad-" Maggie says hesitantly, looking briefly from her father to where Sam is still chained up.

"Maggie, if you're going to get me out, you have to get him out as well." Timothy says, determinedly, "I'm not leaving here without him."

"I don't know-"

"Listen to me," Timothy interrupts, looking his daughter straight in the eye, "I don't know what your sister has told you, but the elders are not on board with this…this plan of hers. You'll be kicked out of the institute before you've even really begun. This all boils down to a matter of trust." He pauses before adding, "do you trust me?

"Of course I do, daddy."

"Brilliant. Now, untie me, before your sister comes back. Then, we'll get to work on freeing Sam."

For the first time, Sam feels something resembling hope bubbling up in his chest.

* * *

Men of Letters bunker, United States

Library

 _Lebanon, Kansas_

8:35 am

 _"Bullshit_. I know you know, Kenny," Dean's saying as Mary and Castiel walk into the library. "oh, screw you."

He hangs up the phone, sighing as he runs a hand down his face.

Castiel and Mary exchange a look.

"Dean, maybe it would be best if you got some rest-"

Dean merely glowers before picking up his phone and dialing again.

"I don't think Sam's getting any rest in that basement in a foreign country. I'm not resting until he can."

Mary feels a swell of love so deep…so fierce it nearly bursts out of her. These were her boys. She hadn't been around to raise them or teach them the importance of family, but it seems that John had managed just fine on his own.

Mary walks over to Dean, snatching the cellphone out of his hands. He starts to protest, but she merely throws it on the table before reaching up and wrapping her arms around him.

"We'll find him. We will. But we won't do it with you collapsing from exhaustion." She kisses his cheek before pulling away, " _Please_ , Dean."

Dean looks at her before sighing, "One of these days, that's not going to work."

Mary smirks, "Your father used to say the same thing."

Dean begrudgingly goes to lay down while Castiel and Mary get to work on finding the youngest Winchester.

* * *

Men of Letters, London Chapterhouse

Entryway

London, England

2:35 pm

Toni opens the door, smiling.

"Elder Cambridge," she begins, "how lovely to finally meet you in person."

The man standing before her rolls his eyes, no longer faking the British accent, "okay, you know what? I'm over this whole roleplay situation." He lifts his hand, flinging her across the room. She crashes into the coffee table in the parlor room. The tea set digs into her back and leaves her gasping for air. He steps over the broken demon trap underneath the carpet and into the home. The door slams shut behind him.

"Nice digs," He says, watching as she tries to pick herself up, "Of course, Hell has better lighting, but whatever."

Toni looks up from the floor, unable to get her legs underneath her to hold her up, just as his appearance suddenly changes from elderly gentleman to a young boy with blonde hair and eyes that immediately flicker to black.

Demon. Oh, God. What did she do?

Then, she pictures her little boy upstairs, curled in his tiny bed.

"You're considering it still, aren't you?" He walks towards her, "I can tell by your facial expression. You're still considering working with me even though I'm something you and those like you have hunted for years."

Toni swallows, saying nothing.

"Man, you don't even know who I am, do you?" He continues, squatting down next to her. He lifts a hand to fix her hair but she flinches away, "There it is. I almost forgot what it was like to be human. To be so…morally compromised when it comes to saving those I love." Then, he shudders, "Thank Lucifer I'm not like _that_ anymore." He reaches down, pulling at her hair. She winces as he pulls her up so she's standing. "Take me to him. Now."

He pushes her in front of him, "And no funny business. I can snap your neck anytime I want."

She nods, shakily walking towards the basement door. She does her thing, before turning to him.

"There are sigils on the walls-demon traps on the floor- I'm not sure you can-"

The man rolls his eyes, "Lady, I've been a demon for well over a century. I got this."

They start walking down the stairs, Toni feeling a looming sense of dread in the pit of her stomach. She can't help but think of her father, tied to a pole, defenseless. Sam Winchester, she needs, but she can live without, in the long run. Her father, however…

They make it to the end of the stairs and Toni reaches to the wall to turn on the lights. When she does, her eyes widen in shock, leaving her gasping. It's empty. The entire fucking basement is empty. The chains that once held Sam Winchester are on the floor.

The demon walks ahead of her, looking the entire length of the basement before slowly turning back towards her. Toni swallows out of fear, frozen in place.

"Where," he says slowly, his black eyes staring right into her, "is my _brother_?" He says the last word with such disgust, it sends shivers down Toni's spine.

* * *

Who the hell knows?

London, England

2:45 pm

Sam stumbles along the street, Timothy on one side of him with Maggie on the other.

"Just have to…just have to get far enough away so Cas…Castiel can…can hear me," he mumbles.

"Almost there," Timothy responds, grasping onto the back of Sam's shirt again, despite his old age, the dude is freaking _strong_. "Almost there…"

They stop in an alleyway and lean Sam up against the wall. Sam's breathing is erratic, he feels discombobulated from his limbs.

"You'll have to pray here, Sam," Timothy says, "inside will be too protected."

"Okay," Sam nods, but when he does he doesn't have the energy to lift his head back up. He closes his eyes, sending up a prayer.

"Is this going to work?" Maggie asks her father, "he's really-"

"shh," Timothy says softly, "let him pray in silence."

Sam opens his eyes a few moments later, summoning the energy to lift his head. Within seconds, there's another person standing beside them.

In a trench coat.

And a tie.

In the middle of May.

Maggie couldn't help the surprised giggle that escaped. Her father shot her an exasperated look, but it was worth it.

"Hello, you must be-" Timothy speaks first.

"Sam," Castiel says, leaning down and placing a hand on Sam's head. Sam shivers and light pours from Castiel's hand to the wound in Sam's gut. When the light fades, the wound is still there. Much to everyone's surprise.

"Oh God," Timothy says, "she must have used-"

"anti-healing bullets," Maggie interrupts, eyes wide, "those are meant for-"

"I know," Timothy says, looking at her and silently telling her to shut up.

"Dean," Sam says, looking at Castiel with wide, bloodshot eyes, "Is he-"

"Dean's fine, Sam," Castiel says, but he looks worried, "You, however-"

"I'll be fine. Just get me to my brother." Sam says, standing up a little straighter, even as his world tilts.

Castiel catches him before either Timothy or Maggie can make a move.

"Goodbye, Sam Winchester," Timothy says, smiling sadly, "it's been an honor-"

"They have to come, too," Sam interrupts, breathing heavily and looking seconds away from passing out, "you have to come too. Toni…she'll…uh, something. I don't know. You have to come."

Maggie exchanges a look with Timothy.

"We have to go. Now." Castiel says, speaking hurriedly. He looks at Timothy and Maggie.

Timothy nods and then, they're gone.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The thing about flying Air Angel is the landing. Sure, it's great to pop out of one place and reappear into another, but it's the landing that really makes or breaks the trip.

Sam realizes that landings officially _suck_ when you've got a bullet lodged somewhere in your gut.

He gasps for air, ignoring the dark spots at the edge of his vision. Don't pass out, he mentally tells himself, don't you fucking do it. His mind is still racing with Cas's confirmation that Dean is alive.

 _Dean's fucking_ alive _._

Hands gently lower him to the ground. He fights, but it's more like a newly born kitten rather than a well-trained hunter. He gives up, letting his arms fall to his sides. His vision blurs as he stares up at the ceiling. He swallows, fighting back the urge to give into blissful unconsciousness. A familiar table is to the right of him. War room. He's home.

He's so happy he could cry. Which, admittedly, is pretty embarrassing. But, it feels like it's been forever since he was last here.

Castiel fills his vision, asking him something. Sam doesn't care. Not like he can hear much due to his muffled hearing.

"Dean?" He asks, then when no one answers him, he demands, " _Dean_."

His vision is darkening even more now and he knows it won't be long before-

"Sammy!"

Sam perks up, knowing that voice. He sits up, which he finds out immediately is a bad idea when his eyes roll in his head and his body starts to fall backward. Just when he thinks that the floor's going to rush up to greet him, strong arms hold him upright.

Sam blinks, attempting to clear his vision. It finally clears and he's able to see Dean on his knees in front of him, holding him up by a hand on his head and the other on his shoulder. Sam still wobbles in the hold, but it's enough. For now.

Green eyes lock with his. Sam looks him over, as best he can with still slightly blurry eyesight, making sure Amara hadn't done any irreparable damage. Satisfied, he's looking back up when he notices a familiar, ugly ass piece of jewelry.

"Dean," Sam says, sounding a lot more pleading than intended but it does the trick. His upper body folds, his head landing on a soft, flannel-clad shoulder.

Sam feels more than sees, his brother's sigh. A hand rests on top of his head, "Sammy, you alright?"

Hell no, he's not alright. He's got a bullet in his freakin' gut.

Not to mention that he still feels the aftershocks of being fucking electrocuted.

So, no, he's not alright.

But you don't say that when your brother you thought was dead is suddenly alive. Again.

Sam says nothing, burrowing his head into his brother's shoulder in an attempt to not pass out or puke.

Voices speak above them, but Sam couldn't care less. He focuses on breathing in and out.

He feels more than hears when Dean starts speaking. Even half out of it, Sam can tell when his brother is majorly pissed off. Which, Sam knows from experience, is mostly worry and concern.

"Okay, okay," Dean says, in that way he does when he's trying to figure out what comes next, "We're going to lay you down, alright, Sammy? I gotta see what I'm workin' with here."

Surprisingly, Dean waits for Sam's response. Sam nods into his shoulder, unable to form words. Then, Sam's moving again and the pain in his gut makes it's presence known.

"Son of a- Sam? Sam?"

The pain dies down to a tolerable level, which means Sam knows he's no longer wanting to scream his guts out.

"'m okay," Sam says, breathing heavily. He opens his eyes, not realizing that he had shut them. Dean's hovering over him, paler than he was a few moments ago.

"Yeah, you're just fine," Dean says sarcastically, patting his cheek, "This is probably gonna hurt like a bitch."

"'m gonna pass out," Sam mumbles, eyes rolling in his head, "you're here, right?"

"Yeah, buddy. I'm here."

Dean called him buddy. Shit's bad, then.

Sam nods, consenting to his older brother looking at his wound. He shivers, still clad in the boxers and nothing else.

Then, Dean puts his hand on the wound and the shit hits the fan.

Someone's screaming bloody murder, Sam realizes.

Wait.

That's him.

"-touch it! I won't, okay! No more!" Someone's begging. Hands are on his face, "Please, please… _Sam_! _Sammy!"_

Sam swallows back another scream, but hey, it's an accomplishment considering the fact his entire body feels like it's on fire and he wishes for nothing but pleasant unconsciousness.

"Please," Sam hears himself say, looking at Dean as his vision goes in and out of focus, " _please_."

He can't say more than one word, but it apparently does the trick because Castiel is leaning forward, placing two fingers on his forehead and he's out.

"The hell was that?!" Dean exclaims, "No bullet wound I've ever known has caused _that_ -"

"Anti-healing bullets do that," Timothy speaks up.

"Okay, great, but who in the hell are you?" Dean stands up, directly in front of his unconscious brother. His hands twitch to get the gun in the back of his jeans. "Or _you_? Cas, you know this isn't a shelter, right? We don't take in strays!"

"I…don't know who they are. Sam wouldn't leave them behind." Castiel responds, now looking over them with a careful eye.

"Well, let me introduce myself. I'm Timothy. This is my daughter, Maggie. I'm a Man of Letter's London Chapterhouse. Maggie is becoming a Woman of Letters," Timothy says, then adds, "Toni is my daughter-"

"Toni?" Dean looks from the older man to Castiel, who has an unreadable look on his face. "And just who in the hell is Toni?"

Timothy hesitates, before saying, "The woman who did this to your brother."

Dean immediately goes into overly protective mode, fists clenching at his sides, "You son of a-"

"Dean? What's going on?" Mary enters the room, scanning before locking eyes on her son in the floor. "Sam!"

She rushes to his side, brushing back the hair from his face. Even unconscious, he looks like he's in pain. It's hard to believe her baby boy grew up to be this man.

"It's spreading quickly," Timothy says, causing everyone to look at him. "I've never seen it spread this fast before."

Dean opens his mouth, two seconds away from shooting the man on principle alone when his mother beats him to it.

"What is? What's happening to him?"

"Toni shot him with an anti-healing bullet. Something that the institute came up with what, 10 years ago now, Dad?" Maggie says, looking to her father for confirmation. He nods and she continues, "the only way that wound will heal is if we stop the poison spreading throughout his body."

"How do we do that?" Mary asks because Dean is obviously is still processing, when they say nothing she angrily demands, "How?"

Maggie and Timothy shoot glances at each other.

"Just tell us!" Dean exclaims, "or I swear that I'll do something way worse than shooting the two of you."

"Don't," a weak voice from the floor says, "Dean, don't."

Dean immediately drops back to the floor, "Sammy?"

Sam swallows, eyes still closed, "Don't kill 'em. Helped me. Escape. Crazy bitch."

"They did, huh?" Dean chuckles, but it's not humorous, "I guess I won't shoot 'em now. Too much of a mess to clean up anyhow. Hey, what do you say we get you in your bedroom? More comfortable in there."

Sam nods, saying nothing. When they get him back to standing position, Sam immediately passes out, freaking out his brother and his mother.

* * *

He's drifting. He feels weightless. Pain-free.

Decades worth of memories flash in his mind.

Like that time when Dean taught him to drive in the parking lot of a Piggy Wiggly.

Dean giving him his first beer and laughing with him when he choked so hard that he almost spit it out.

Dad taking them to a baseball game. Mostly out of guilt for having been gone so long, but it didn't matter. For once, they were just kids with their dad, enjoying a game rather than a hunt.

Meeting Jess by her spilling coffee all over him. Her cute way of stumbling over words as she apologized profusely. Her blush when she asked if she could borrow his notes from their shared class.

Pranking Dean.

Laughing with Dean.

Hunting with Dean.

Dean.

Dean.

"DEAN."

His eyes suddenly open and he's hot, sweating, and anxious. His mind is a mess, but he knows one thing for certain: he has to find his brother. He needs to find his brother.

"Woah, easy there, tiger. Sam, you alright?" a familiar voice cuts through the haze. Rough hands gently push him back onto a soft surface. "Sam? We communicating here?"

"Gotta find Dean. Gotta save Dean." Sam mumbles, head rolling on the pillow.

"Shit, dude, you're burning up," Dean says, putting a hand on Sam's forehead, "I'm here, Sam. You don't have to find me. I"m right here."

Sam breathes heavily through the pain in his stomach. He's hurt. Why is he hurt? Wait, that doesn't matter.

"Dean?" Sam asks, hesitantly, eyes still clenched shut.

A hand cards through his hair.

"Yeah, it's me," a voice says softly, "you wanna open them eyes now or go back to dreamland?"

He swallows and fights back the desire to fade into unconsciousness again. It takes a herculean effort, but he manages. He half-expects to be in Hell and for this all to be one monumental joke. Strapped to a table, Lucifer leaning over him.

His eyes blink open to see a familiar ceiling fan at first. Then, he glances slightly to the right and his breath catches.

Dean's breathing and whole and alive. Looking nearly the same as the day he supposedly died.

"Dean," Sam says, voice wavering.

Dean gives him a smile, the same smile he did all those years ago when he came back from Hell, "Hey, Sammy."

That's all it takes. He doesn't care about the effort it takes, the pain in his gut or anything else. He throws himself at his unsuspecting brother, latching onto him.

Dean stumbles a little at the extra weight, but it's not that much because Sam's still so damn skinny. The older brother sighs and wraps his arms around his brother, holding him.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you missed me." Dean jokes, but he holds onto him just as tight.

Sam says nothing, holding onto his brother desperately. Which, admittedly, is embarrassing as hell, but he doesn't care. Dean's not in the Empty. Dean's right here. With him. Sam sags in his arms, feeling sleep start to claim him again.

Dean laughs, jostling Sam, but it's worth it. Sam's eyes flutter close as Dean gently sets him back down on the bed. Sam forces his eyes open, afraid that if he looks away, for even a moment, this will be gone.

"Dean," is all Sam says as he moves his hand towards Dean on the bed, "Don't go."

Dean rolls his eyes, but catches his hand in his, "So, I guess I should cancel that hot date I had all set up, huh?"

Sam merely sighs, not even having the energy to summon a comeback to that. He just tightens his grip in Dean's hand.

"Alright, you big marshmallow," Dean says, both ignoring it when it sounds a little more choked than it was supposed to, "I ain't going anywhere."

* * *

"You said earlier something about anti-healing bullets. You mind elaborating on that?" Mary asks, curiously, attempting to hold back her anger at these strangers who clearly had something to do with Sam getting hurt.

"My daughter, Toni, shot Sam with an anti-healing bullet. We have to counteract the poison," Timothy supplies, looking around the library in astonishment. He touches one of the books and pulls it out, eyes wide, "surely they have something on them here. This collection really is magnificent."

Maggie rolls her eyes at her nerd of a father before saying, nervously, "Dad, what are we going to do? Toni's not just going to let this go. She's not going to let _Sam_ go."

Timothy reluctantly puts the book away to look at his daughter.

"I suppose that's a relevant question." his eyebrows furrow in concentration, "first thing's first, we need to help Sam sort out this bullet mess."

Maggie nods, "And then?"

"Then we take down your psychotic sister," Mary supplies, going through the archives on the computer. Sam really did a badass job categorizing every single book in the bunker. The stunned silence causes her to look up, "What?"

"We're not going to _take her down_ ," Timothy says, looking at the woman as if she has grown two heads, "There's got to be another way. She can be managed-"

"Really? After all this you're still willing to-" Mary exclaims, angrily, before taking a deep breath and shaking her head, "Fine. We'll come up with something."

* * *

When Sam comes back around, this time, it's much more pleasant. Although he's still burning, his body raging with a fever that reminds him similarly of what he went through during the Trials, he feels a little bit more like himself now than he did before.

"You awake for real now, sleeping beauty?"

Sam looks up, watching as Dean enters the room with a tray of assorted things. Such as, a large bottle of Gatorade. And pain pills. And enough food to feed an army. Sam continues to watch as Dean puts it down on the desk.

"I find your knowledge of Disney princesses disturbing," Sam says, pushing himself up on his arms to sit up against the headboard. He winces, leaning his head back as he breathes through the pain. When it gets manageable, he opens his eyes.

"Scale of 1-10, how bad is it?" Dean asks, eyes crinkling at the edges with worry, "Don't bullshit me either."

Sam pauses, thinking as he takes a self-assessment. His bones still feel weary after all that electroshock therapy Toni was so generous about giving him.

"'s not that bad," Sam half grins, tiredly, "barely worse than a papercut."

Dean snorts, "Yeah, right. Here."

Sam takes the offered Gatorade bottle, weakly twisting the top open and lifting it. He swallows as much as he can before he gets a sickly feeling. Dean notices, he always notices. Sam caps the bottle, shakily and puts it on his nightstand. He sits up a little straighter, feeling himself pale.

"Oh no, you don't. You keep that down," Dean threatens, "Sam, I mean it. Don't-"

Sam swallows once, twice, three times.

"Son of a bitch." Dean exclaims, turning to the desk and grabbing the trash can that sits underneath it. He quickly moves to the bed, helping Sam sit on the edge of it and puts the trashcan in his lap.

"Oh, god," Sam mutters right before leaning over and emptying everything he ever ate out of his stomach. It goes on longer than it should. When he's done, he realizes he's shivering and someone's rubbing his back.

"You good?"

" _You're_ good, _I_ feel like shit." Sam's voice is hoarse, energy completely wiped.

He closes his eyes. The trashcan is removed from his lap and he's moved gently back so he's sitting against the headboard. A few seconds later a wet cloth is wiped across his face, getting the remains of the vomit off his face.

"You'll make someone a good housewife one day, Dean," Sam teases, weakly, but he needs to insert some bout of normalcy about this not so normal situation.

"Shut up," Dean says, fondly.

Sam opens his eyes as the cloth is moved away from his face. The bed moves when Dean stands up from the bed, putting the washcloth on the desk and sorting through something on the tray.

Something's different, Sam realizes. He starts with Dean's hair, but that's always been the same. He moves downward, checking his brother for any injuries.

"Dude, I'm fine," Dean says, turning around with two pills in his hand and a glass of water. He walks towards Sam and that's when he notices it.

He can't believe he didn't notice it before.

Hanging from his neck, as if it had never left, is the amulet. Sam feels his eyes start to sting with unshed tears and forces them back.

He looks up at his brother, taking note of Dean's soft expression. Dean holds out the water and the pills but says nothing.

Dean knows. He always knows.

Sam takes the pills, swallows the water. Dean puts it on the nightstand for him, but still hovers, afterward.

"What happened with Amara?" Sam asks, softly.

"Dude," Dean says, shaking his head, "I've got one hell of a story for you."

Dean launches into it, appearing a lot more energetic-more _Dean_ -like- this time than the first time Sam had woken up.

"Mom?" Sam asks, sitting up straighter, eyes wide with wonder and shock, "She's-"

Dean nods, looking him over before frowning as Sam attempts to stand up, "Where are you going?"

Sam shoots him a look, _where do you think I'm going, dumbass?_

Dean sighs, because of course, Sam wants to see their mother.

"Why don't I just tell her to come in here?" Dean suggests, standing up, "It'll be quicker than me hauling your ass around the bunker."

Sam rolls his eyes but relents a lot quicker than Dean thought he would. Which immediately causes his big brother radar to go into overdrive.

"Fine," Sam says, leaning back, "but hurry up or I'm hauling my own ass around the bunker."

Dean gives him a laugh and walks out of the room.

* * *

"Mom?" Dean asks, wondering through the war room, then through the library where Timothy is geeking out over some book and Maggie is merely watching in amusement. "Have either of you seen-"

Mary walks around the corner from the kitchen, wiping her hands on an apron that Dean didn't even know they had, "How is he?"

"He wants to see you," Dean says, suddenly anxious about the two of the most important people in his life finally getting to reunite.

Mary's eyes light up and she grins, "Great. Okay. Great."

She runs a floury hand through her hair, seemingly anxious. Dean finds himself smiling, just watching her. She unties her apron and flings it in the direction of a library chair. She lets out a deep breath.

"Okay. Let's go."

* * *

"You stupid _bitch_ ," Adam growls, slapping the human in the face. Toni doesn't let out any noise. Not allowing herself to give into the pain. "Where would they go?"

Toni stays silent, her head spinning from the hits upon hits she's been taking.

He slaps her again.

"Answer me, _bitch_."

Toni lets out a shaky breath, voice trembling, "They…they would go…" She racks her brain, but comes up empty, "I don't know! I don't know where they'd go!"

She feels tears sting her eyes but pushes them back. She's useless. She doesn't deserve to cry.

Adam lets out a sigh, "Looks like you just need a little motivation."

Suddenly, he's disappeared and by the time Toni realizes where he's going, she's up the basement stairs and beginning to go up the ones that lead to the second floor.

"Ah, ah, looking for this?"

Toni turns around on the third step, heart sinking to her chest. Adam has her son by the throat, shaking him like a rag doll. Harrison's eyes are wide with shock and pain as he tries to take in air that's just not there.

"Let him go," Toni growls, tears finally falling from her eyes.

"Now, this can go one of two ways," Adam begins, "One: you don't tell me the other Men of Letters location in the city and I snap your little boy's neck. Or, my personal favorite, you grow some balls and save your son. So, what's it going to be? Your father and sister or your son?"

Toni's shaking with pent up fear and rage. It's a lethal combination in the right hands, but she's merely a scared mother wanting to do right by her family.

Harrison's eyes look a lot older than he is. He's pleading with her. Not to save him. To save his grandpa and aunt Maggie. He knows. He knows he doesn't have much time left. And that's something an eleven-year-old boy should never know.

Adam's hand moves a little tighter around Harrison's neck as he says, cruelly, "Time's running out."

"Let him go."

Adam doesn't turn around. He looks annoyed. Toni looks behind him, to the figure that just spoke.

"Did you hear me? I _said_ let him go."

"Oh, I heard you alright," Adam says, rolling his eyes, "that annoying voice travels very well in here."

"Who the bloody hell-"

"Toni, if I were you, I'd shut my stupid whore mouth," the person says, "you're not exactly my bestie right now, but your boy is innocent. You hear me, Adam? He's an _innocent_."

Adam grumbles under his breath and drops the boy on the ground. He turns around, glaring at the intruder.

"Nice to see you too," the other person says, "now, where's Sam?"

"If I knew that, why the hell would I still be here?"

"Because you're a demon and you like to toy with humans." Said matter-of-factly.

"Well, well… look at you. The student has finally become the master."

Bright blue eyes shine angrily at him in the sunlight, "God, you're more egotistical now than you were when I first met you."

"Aw, thank you," Adam says, sweetly, "you really do know how to make a boy blush."

Then, all Hell breaks loose.


	8. Chapter 8

_Then_ :

Not to be a cliché or anything, but her Heaven was great. No, really. It was the best. She got to relive all of her good memories from when she was alive. Some, she thought she forgot about until she was thrust into the middle of one.

Like the time she went to her grandmother's and they baked cookies all day long and that's all they had to eat. She had a stomach-ache and a lecture from her mother by the end of it, but it was worth it.

Or that time her and her college boyfriend went to movie after movie until the theater forced them to leave because they were closing.

The only downside was that she was, you know, dead. And most of her family was still kicking down on Earth. But sometimes she got to watch them. At first it was hard, because, obviously, they were grieving. For her. But, eventually, they moved on.

Hell, however, is a much different story. Most people think it burns hot, but it's actually freezing. Beyond freezing. Footsteps interrupt her train of thought. It's better than the screams coming from down the hall, though, so she welcomes the distraction.

The footsteps stop at her cage.

"Morning, Princess," Adam grins at her, black eyes glittering in the flickering light. The _hell_ light, reminding her that she's no longer in Heaven. No longer safe.

"Morning, assface," she replies, sarcastically, glaring at him from her spot on the floor. She shivers and wraps herself further together, even though she knows it's pointless.

"Aw, come on, don't be like that." He paces past her cell, whistling cheerily then turns back around and marches the other way.

"Why are you so happy every damn day?" She blurts, "you're stuck here, too, in case you haven't noticed."

He stops his pacing and puts his hands on the bars of her cell.

"Yeah… about that. Not so much _stuck_ for me anymore." He says and she's just about to ask what the hell he means by that when he points at her, "you, on the other hand, _damn_ ," he shakes his head, "and I do mean that literally. You are damned. All-American Cheerleader type, did work for the poor and the needy, and yet….you're stuck in a prison cell… in Hell. And, like I've said, damned."

She swallows, "You know why I'm here and it's not because of what I did when I was alive."

"Yeah, it's more like _who_ you did when you were alive am I right?"" Adam quips, smirking causing her to glare at him even harder, "bet you're regretting that right about now, aren't you?"

She rolls her eyes so she doesn't say something she might regret. She sometimes wonders what Adam was like as a human. Was he this cunning? This cruel?

Adam interrupts her thoughts, again, "Speaking of, how is-"

"Shut up, Adam." She growls, standing up. Her bloody bare feet on the icy-cold floor make her shiver and wish that she had died in something more practical than a nightgown. Her shackles rattle against the floor as she makes her way towards him. He backs away as she gets closer to the bars. What she wouldn't give to just wipe that smug smirk off his face. "You don't get to talk about him."

"What, like you're going to make me? Get real, blondie." He rolls his eyes, but steps back further from the bars anyway. He glances at his watch.

"Okay, okay, I won't talk about him anymore," Adam says, grinning at her in the way that makes a shiver run down her spine. He flashes his black eyes at her once more, before saying, "I'll get to see him in person soon enough."

Her eyes widen and he snaps his fingers. The walls begin to shake. Before she can even blink, a loud explosion erupts.

* * *

 _Now :_

Sam stands up, a little woozily. He swallows, hoping that he won't throw up within seconds of meeting his mother. His _mother_. He shakes his head, knowing he won't really believe it until he sees it. He finds some sweatpants in the drawer of his well-used dresser. Inside the dresser, he sees a small velvet box tucked away in the corner. He slams the drawer back and runs a shaking hand through his messy, greasy hair.

 _So come home soon, okay? I love you._

He rubs his suddenly aching chest and turns away from the drawer filled with old memories. He can't think about that now. He slips on the sweatpants and then throws on a old t-shirt he finds on the chair by his desk.

"Sam? Everything alright in there?" Dean's voice comes from behind his closed door.

He must have heard the slamming of the drawer, Sam realizes. He closes his eyes, sighing.

"I'm fine, Dean."

The door opens, revealing Dean, first. Dean's eyes look over him, as if expecting him to look worse than he does. Sam rolls his eyes at him, causing Dean to huff. Then, once Sam's annoying older brother moves out of the way, stands his mother. Blonde hair, green eyes. Nervous smile.

Sam doesn't mean to, but his breath hitches.

"Mom?"

Mary's lips tremble, "Sam."

Before he knows it, she rushes forward and elopes him - her gigantic, moose of a child - into a hug. He's beyond stunned, but eventually gets with the program and hugs her back.

She pulls away, tears on her face. She embarrassedly wipes them away, laughing softly.

"This is crazy. You were just…. This big." She gestures with her hands, indicting just how small of a baby Sam used to be.

"Yeah, I, uh, ate my veggies," Sam says and then immediately regrets it. His eyebrows furrow and looks up at Dean.

"I'll….leave you two to it," Dean says, rubbing his hands together before quickly exiting. However, he yells down the hallway, "Finish the Gatorade."

Sam rolls his eyes, causing Mary to laugh.

"Is he always like that?" Mary asks, grinning.

"No. He's usually worse," Sam says, smiling and shaking his head.

The two are quiet for a moment, both taking in the fact that they are in the presence of the other one.

 _"_ Come on, you should be sitting," Mary suddenly says, gesturing to the bed. Sam doesn't even complain and merely sits down, hissing when his stomach is pulled. "We're going to fix this," she says, determinedly, "and then I'm going to kill that bitch who did this and I'm going to enjoy it."

Sam barks out a laugh, "You sound just like Dean."

Mary sighs, "Well, he gets it honest." She looks over him, as if memorizing what he looks like, "And so do you."

Sam looks up, in surprise, "Me?"

She smiles, "Yeah, you. You are John made over."

"What?" Sam says, obviously shocked.

"Don't get me wrong, there's a lot of me in there, too. But, yeah, you're…. You're just like him. Dean's been telling me stories while you were asleep. You're stubborn. Pig-headed. Loyal. Kind. Smart. Funny. God, Sam, you're…." She chokes, looking away. She lowers her head, staring at her hands, "I'm so sorry I missed it. I missed it all."

"Mom…." Sam says, a little overwhelmed by how much she was opening up to him.

She sniffles, "Wow, that was…. A lot more than I thought I was going to say," she laughs, shaking her head, "Sorry for the overshare, but I… I guess I'm trying to make up for lost time? I don't know-"

"Mom," Sam interrupts, but suddenly doesn't know what to say. So, he squeezes her hand. She looks at him, gratefully. And, so, for the first time in more than 3 decades, the youngest child and the mother sit together.

* * *

Bullets fly across the hallway and Adam barely moves to the left to avoid a bullet in the middle of his forehead.

"Bullets? Really, Jessica?" Adam exclaims, arms spread wide, "Did your stint in purgatory teach you _nothing_? Bullets don't kill demons. Especially incredibly handsome ones like yours truly."

Jess growls, keeping her gun pointed at him, "it's _Jess_ you ginormous, pretentious, prick!"

"Jessica Moore?!" Toni exclaims, still on the ground and covering her child with her body, "h-h-how on Earth are you-"

"Different body, blah blah, blah. I don't have to explain myself to you." Jess rolls her eyes at the still-babbling idiot. She desperately wants to plug her full of bullet holes on principal but she catches sight of the scared child, cowering against his mother. "You might want to, oh, I don't know, run."

Toni looks between Jess and Adam, who looks about seconds away from doing something uniquely evil to her and makes her mind up. She tucks tail and runs, Harrison in her arms.

Adam sighs, in disappointment. He turns to Jess, pouting, "That was no fun. How come you never let me have any fun?"

"Because, Adam. Innocent lives? Kind of what I protect, in case you forgot." She still has her gun out in front of her, "and, if bullets don't hurt demons, especially ones like you, why did you move away from them?"

Adam doesn't even say anything before snapping his fingers and disappearing. Jess sighs, running a hand through her hair.

She's got to find Sam before Adam does.

* * *

 _Damn, it's good to be back, Sam can't help thinking, after he quickly drops his bag and grabs one of Jess's famous chocolate chip cookies off the table. He munches on the cookie as he walks into their bedroom. He briefly thinks about Dean, hoping his brother will be safe. Well, safe as one can be as he chases everything that goes bump in the night._

 _"Jess? You here?"_

 _He notices the bathroom door, halfway open and the shower running. Sighing, he lowers himself down onto his bed, happily finishing off his cookie._

 _He closes his eyes._

 _Something wet hits him on his forehead. He shifts, almost asleep, when it happens again. Wait, he hadn't heard any singing in the shower. Jess always sings in the shower. He opens his eyes….._

* * *

A loud noise comes from Sam's room. Everyone looks up from the books they've been scouring, looking for something to help Sam.

"What the hell?" Mary asks, shoving back from the library table right as Dean takes off towards Sam's room.

"Sammy!" Dean bursts through the doorway, coming to a halt at the foot of Sam's bed. "What the- oh."

Sam's restless on the bed, sweat pouring off of him as he screams one name in particular. Dean immediately goes to his brother's side.

"Hey, you're going to wake up the whole neighborhood if you keep this up." Dean says, gently, as he moves to wake Sam. He pushes at Sam's arm, which usually does the trick. He tries once more before frowning. When it doesn't work the second time, Dean slaps him, causing Mary to wince. Dean doesn't bother looking over his shoulder at her.

"He's not waking up," Dean says, voice on the verge of panic. This time, he does looks over his shoulder and Mary's heart nearly stops in her chest.

"I'm afraid it's beginning." The older British man says from the doorway. Mary doesn't turn toward him, her focus on her boys. When Dean moves to put his hand on Sam's chest, the youngest Winchester seems to stop his yelling and start muttering to himself.

Dean looks up from where he's knelt by Sam, he puts his other hand on his forehead and frowning at the heat coming off of his brother in waves, " _What's_ beginning?"

"The nightmares," Maggie supplies, frowning, "After several hours with the poison in their system, monsters go into a deep coma-" Dean growls at her use of the word 'monster'.

"My brother isn't a monster! He's a human being and he's saved _your_ asses too many times to count." Dean points at them, angrily, "You ungrateful sons of bitches, i don't even-" Dean cuts himself off, having grown too angry to even keep yelling at them. He glares at her and her father. To Mary's lack of surprise, her oldest looks as if he's about two seconds away from shooting them on site. She can't honestly say she blames him. She wonders if it would be wrong of her to let Dean shoot them and if it would be even worse if she joined him.

Maggie's eyes widen, helplessly. She takes a half-step back. "I-I know that. We both know that and we're grateful..."

"What Maggie means is, normally when we…we fire these particular bullets, the poison seems to take effect immediately. They send their...victims into living their worst nightmares over and over until the poison eventually stops their breathing. However, in your brother, the effects seem to be progressing at a slower rate. Toni probably did this so she could keep him alive by using a stimulant we came up with a month or so ago." He shakes his head, thinking of his daughter briefly before saying, "This is good news, Dean. However, his symptoms are only going to get worse from here, I'm afraid," her father says, stepping in front of Maggie, "But, I think I might have found something. Back in the library. Something that might help slow this process down even further. It's not a cure by any means, but it should buy him some time. Maggie and I will go back and make sure it is legitimate."

The older man gives Dean a half smile before ushering his daughter out of the room. Mary watches them go, but stays put, looking at her boys.

"What can I do?" Mary asks Dean, who hasn't moved or said a word in more than several minutes.

Dean runs a hand over his face, looking several years older than he did that morning and Mary feels an ache in her chest. This. This is why she didn't want her boys in this life. This pain. This heartache. Watching the people they love die in ways that aren't natural.

"Sit with him." Dean finally says, gruffly, briefly looking down at Sam one more time before turning towards her and the doorway. He stops and kisses her cheek before exiting the room.

AN: ...So, what'd y'all think? :)


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

AN: hi guys! New chapter... hope you like. Please review and let me know what you think! This story has probably about 1-2 more chapters... :)

Men of Letters bunker, United States

 _Lebanon, Kansas_

 _"Did you even look for me, Sammy?"_

 _By the look on Dean's face, he already knows the answer. Sam looks away, guilt nearly swallowing him whole. He wants to make excuses, but he finds himself unable to talk. Eventually, Dean storms away and Sam's left alone. Something he's grown used to._

"Dean," Sam says sadly, as if his heart's just been broken, "Dean, I'm sorry….sorry…"

Mary pushes back Sam's hair from his face, frowning at the heat coming from him.

"Sammy," she whispers, "it's ok, it's going to be ok. I promise."

Sam mutters again, this time something unrecognizable. She sighs before scooting her chair closer to her son. She puts her hand in his, squeezing it.

"How is he?" Dean says, entering the room. Mary looks up at her oldest and notices the bags under his eyes. They've been looking for a cure all night, switching turns sitting beside Sam and he's clearly exhausted. Her mother instincts fight to kick in, tell him to get some rest, but she knows he won't listen. Not right now. Not while Sam is….sick.

She can't, _won't_ , let herself think of her baby as dying.

Mary looks up, shaking her head to rid those negative thoughts out of her mind. "He…he still hasn't woken up. He just keeps muttering. And now I don't even know what the hell he's saying." She stands up, frustrated and in desperate need of a break. She moves to the other side of the room, watching as

Dean moves closer to the bed. He leans in close to hear what his brother is saying. He immediately backs up, running a hand over his jaw.

"What? What's he saying?" Mary demands, when Dean doesn't answer she nearly growls, "Dean."

"You don't want to know okay?" Dean snaps, then sighs, "he's…speaking a different language."

"Language?" Mary asks, having grown up as a hunter and being forced to learn many languages and none of them even closely resembled what is coming out of her son's mouth, "what kind of-"

"Enochian." Castiel supplies, entering the room. By Dean's glare, Mary can tell he obviously was going to withhold that information from her. Castiel doesn't notice Dean's look, he's too busy looking over at Sam and frowning, "The language of the angels-ow. Dean, what did you do that for?"

Dean punched his friend, hoping he'd get the hint. He didn't.

"Language of the…" Mary starts, then swallows, suddenly feeling overwhelmed.

Dean puts a hand on her shoulder, "Look, Mom, why don't you go get some rest? You look beat."

Mary starts to protest, but notices Dean's look on his face. It's clear he wants some time alone with his brother. Sighing, she nods and quickly gives him a kiss on the cheek before leaving the room.

Dean sighs, sitting down in the chair that Mary just got out of.

"You want to know what he's-" Castiel starts.

"No," Dean says, sadly, "I know what he's sayin'. And it ain't good. He used to sprout this when he was tripping Lucifer."

Cas nods, sadly, remembering that time very well. He leans forward, placing a finger on Sam's forehead. "He seems to be, uh, what's the phrasing for this? Holding his own."

Dean gives his friend a half-smile, "He's a Winchester. He's always holding his own."

He leans forward, placing his elbows on his knees as he waits.

* * *

 _"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy," Lucifer tisks, walking closer to him, "Did you really think you got out? I gotta say, some of my best work yet."_

 _The pain is everywhere and it takes everything in him to even still be conscious. But he knows that look on Lucifer's face. He knows what's coming next._

 _"Come on now, Sammy," Lucifer is suddenly Dean, "don't be a little bitch."_

 _Then, he sticks his hand inside of Sam's stomach and twists. Sam screams echo throughout the cage._

Sam writhes on the bed, and whimpers. He fucking _whimpers_ and it's all Dean can do not to punch a hole in the wall. Sam says something else in Enochian and Dean puts his head in his hands.

* * *

Maggie and Timothy are in the library, as they have been all night. Maggie is passed out on a book, snoring away. Timothy glances over at her with a fond grin before lifting his glasses onto his head and rubbing his old, tired eyes. The glasses fall back into place and he sighs. He glances at his watch and knows the youngest Winchester doesn't have much time left. He returns to the book with a newfound eagerness, desperate to help save Sam.

* * *

Men of Letters, London Chapterhouse

 _London, England_

Jess walks down the hallways of the British Men of Letters Bunker, calling out for Toni.

"Come on, I'm not going to hurt you, I just need a little information." Jess says. When no one answers and nothing makes a sound, she groans in frustration. She walks down a hallway, checking every door and every room. She makes it to the last door at the end of the hallway and tries to open it. It's locked.

She moves backwards before lifting her leg and kicking the door in with force. Nothing happens. Growling, she moves back even further and puts more force behind her kick. The door splinters, falling backwards into the room.

It's some serious CSI type shit hung up in the small room. Pictures of the Winchester boys strung up, making some sort of a timeline. She walks in even further, swallowing when she sees a more recent picture of Sam. She takes it down, caressing it for a minute before folding it and putting it in her pocket.

She searches the entire room for a location, something to help her find them. Luckily for her, one of the most recent documents is laying on the top of the desk with an address for the American Men of Letters Bunker circled in red sharpie.

"Moron," Jess mutters before snatching the paper. She starts to leave the room when she notices a thick file with Sam's name on it. She puts the paper in her pocket before reaching for the file.

 _Day 1_

 _Subject is less than helpful. Had to shoot with AHB to get him to cooperate, also gave him Formula 21-A to prolong his suffering. Stung him up in the basement to interrogate him further in a few hours._

 _1:35 am: Had the boys rough him up a little to no avail. Will continue tomorrow._

 _Day 2_

 _Still not helpful, despite the aggressive torture. Blow torch to the feet-_

The file continues, going into more specific detail of the torture she inflicted and Jess feels as if she might actually throw up. She knows he's had worse- Adam would constantly remind her while she was in Hell- but the effort that Toni went to makes her want to punch something. She pictures Sam as she knew him years ago, all floppy hair and dimple smiles and she gets angry. Really fucking angry.

She's got to save Sam. No matter what.

"Toni, get your ass out here," She calls, walking up the stairs, "I know you're still here, because you're an idiot."

She starts shooting every door in the hallway, having grown impatient waiting for Toni to make herself known.

A door opens at the end of the hall, Toni walking out with her hands up.

"Okay, okay, just don't.. just don't shoot me."

The woman standing in front of Jess now seems innocent, but she knows better. The file sticking out of the back of her jeans reminds her of that.

"What's an AHB?" Jess says bluntly.

Toni blinks in confusion, "What?"

Jess removes the folder from her back with one hand, the gun pointing steadily at Toni. She shakes the folder, "In here," she says with disgust, "you mention that you kidnapped Sam by shooting him with an AHB. What the hell is that?"

Toni hesitates and Jess shoots the wall next to her, causing her to jump. "An anti-healing bullet. We shoot the bigger monsters with them in the UK. It… it kills them almost immediately."

Jess's brow furrows as her anger towards the woman grows, "But Sam didn't die immediately-Formula 21-A… you… you made it so that he would stay alive to keep torturing him."

Toni nods, "By now, the effects of his last dose are wearing off. You have to keep giving him the antidote every few hours for him to stay alive, otherwise…."

"Otherwise _what_?" Jess demands, finger tightening on the trigger, "What's going to happen to him?"

"The bullet will make him go into a deep coma, suffering his worse nightmares and eventually….stop his breathing." Toni says, hesitantly, looking at the gun in Jess's hand with anticipation of getting shot.

Jess lets out a shaking breath, "Okay…. Okay. So, where's the antidote."

Toni barks out a laugh, a short, crazy, 'I'm a psycho' kind of laugh, "Haven't you been listening? There's no cure! Sam Winchester will die within the next 24 hours. Probably less, if I'm honest."

"You mean, without the Formula 21-A." Jess supplies.

"Well, yes, but that's merely prolonging it. It's not a cure, by any means."

The door to Toni's right opens, revealing Harrison. Toni's eyes widen in surprise, "Harrison-"

"Mum, I'm alright," Harrison says, tiredly, but firmly, "but I'm… tired of this. Of all of this. You think I don't know what goes on in that basement? I do and I _hate_ it. I want to help Sam."

Jess raises her eyebrows in surprise, "You know of a way to help him?"

Harrison nods as Toni shakes her head, tears falling down her face.

"No," Toni says, pleading, "No, Harrison, you don't understand what you're doing-"

"Mum," Harrison says, calmly, "Yes, I do. I've read your files and even if I didn't…. I'm dying. I've been dying for years. I want to help Sam. While I still can."

* * *

"You're sure about this?" Jess asks, "I don't what you, either of you, changing your mind once I call for him."

Harrison nods, face shaped in determination. Toni, on the other hand, looks as if she's about ten seconds away from either fainting or taking off with her son.

"I'm sure," Harrison says, answering for both of them. He looks up at his mother, "Mum. It's _my_ choice."

Toni lets out a shaky breath, squeezing her son's hand, but says nothing. She looks at Jess, who's looking at her with a mixture of disgust and sympathy. The British woman nods, tears falling from her eyes.

Jess sighs, "Alright. Let's do this. Uh, Castiel? I pray that you hear me…"


	10. Chapter 10

Sam hasn't moved in 2 hours. Dean knows this because he's spent every minute, every damn second, just watching as his brother deteriorates before his very eyes.

"Dean," his mother calls from the doorway, but he doesn't say or do anything in response. He can't. He's afraid if he looks away, if he moves, if he _blinks_ , that'll be it. Sam will be gone. Again. His throat tightens at the thought, vision suddenly blurry. "Dean, honey, you need some rest. Let me take over."

When he doesn't say anything, he hears her move closer. She puts a comforting hand on his shoulder and squeezes gently. Tears spring to his eyes at the gesture. This isn't fair. None of this is fucking fair. They just got her back. They just got Sam back. They should be celebrating. They should be doing anything other than what they are. Waiting for a miracle. He wants to shake her hand off, he doesn't deserve to be comforted. Not when he's failed his job, protecting Sammy, once again. But, he can't make himself do it.

"I can't," he finally croaks, "He hasn't moved in hours, Mom. Hours. Maggie and the old man still haven't come up with anything. I..I'm not leaving him. Not again." _Not ever_.

Mary says something, voice soft and he knows she's hurting too, but he can't help but let his mind drift as he stares at Sam's all too still body. He feels more than hears his mother pull up another chair beside him. He finds himself comparing this to every other time Sam has died. He's not sure what's worse: his brother dying instantly or this… waiting for it to be over, but praying that somehow they'll find another way out of this.

XXXXX

Castiel watches from the doorway of Sam's bedroom, envying Dean as his snores are the only noise in the small room. He hates not being able to do it anything other than watch over them. His powers are useless once more in defeating yet another threat. He shakes his head, riding himself of that thought. Thinking like that won't help Sam. Most certainly won't help Dean.

He glances past Dean and sees Mary curled into a ball on the mattress beside Sam, one hand on her son's arm. She shivers in her sleep and Castiel moves forward, thankful for something to do. He grabs the blanket from the end of Sam's bed and drapes it over her. She settles down further onto the bed and he can't help the fond, but sad smile. The Winchesters have been through so much. Some of that because of their own foolish decisions and some of that because of the supernatural. Mostly, a little of both. He wonders if they will actually ever have a moment of peace. A moment of happiness not stained by another threat.

He looks at the youngest Winchester worriedly as Sam's breath hitches, the first movement he's made in hours. Is this it? Are these hours , minutes even, the _last_ of Sam Winchester?

 _Castiel… I pray that you hear me…_

Castiel blinks then focuses on the voice that has suddenly come through Angel radio, interrupting his meloncoly thoughts.

It can't be. It's _impossible_.

He looks over the sleeping Winchesters and debates internally whether he should follow up on this…impossibility.

 _I know this is crazy, but I have someone who can help Sam. At least, he says he can… please, Castiel…_

He blinks and then he's gone.

XXXXX

He finds himself inside a mansion. Eyebrows furrowed, he wanders down the long entranceway. He reaches a set of stairs and climbs up them before turning to the right. In front of him, he sees a young boy with two adult women.

"He's here!" A young voice exclaims, as if in awe. "Wow, a real-life Angel…"

At that, the two women turn around towards Castiel. One a blonde, who looks as if she's seen better days, and the other a slightly shorter brunette. Looking at him as if he has saved her life.

"Who are you?" Castiel growls, glancing between them both, he doesn't have time to deal with this. His friend is dying,"And why did you pray to me?"

The brunette steps forward, opens her mouth when the young boy pushes himself in front of her and rushes towards him. The young boy comes to an abrupt stop, huffing slightly.

"Harrison!" The blonde snaps, stepping forward to get him, but stops as she looks over the Angel with trepidation and what seems like fear, "Get back here-"

"You," Castiel growls, eyes narrowing on the blonde, "you were in the bunker. You…kidnapped Sam."

"Is it really kidnapping if he's over 6 feet, a _literal_ giant, and also a grown man?" The British woman bites back, but steps back a little when the Angel makes a move towards her.

Once again, Castiel finds his path blocked. This time by the brunette woman. He looks down at her and tilts his head. Something about her is familiar…

" _I_ prayed to you. Not her," She says, voice firm, "This is going to sound crazy and you have no reason to believe me, but my name is Jessica Moore."

"Jessica Moore?" Castiel questions before shaking his head, "Impossible. She died-"

"But I was brought back! I know it's crazy, I know…" Her voice trembles, "Trust me, it should be impossible. But here I am. You're an angel, right? Isn't there some way you are able to tell that I'm telling the truth?"

Castiel glances behind her at the blonde woman, who managed to get the boy back towards her and wrapped her arms around him, holding him to her.

"Well, yes, but-"

"Do it." The young boy says urgently, "Please, we don't have much time to help Sam."

Castiel looks at the boy, then what appears to be his mother, then the brunette. "Fine. But the process is painful."

"Fine." The brunette agrees, "I don't care, I just want to save Sam."

XXXXX

Ten minutes later, the brunette is tied to a wooden chair in the middle of the huge kitchen and Castiel is rolling up his sleeves, his trench coat folded over the back other another chair.

"This is stupid," Toni grumbles, fidgeting in her chair and wincing as the handcuffs cut into her wrists a little deeper. "I don't need to be handcuffed."

Harrison rolls his eyes at his mother, "Mum, I mean this with respect and love, but please shut up. We're in this mess because of you."

Toni has the decency to look guilty and mutters something unintelligible before becoming quiet. Castiel towers over the young girl in the chair, looking half convinced he's doing the right thing and half-convinced that he's making a colossal mistake. The brunette adjusts herself as best she can and looks up at him, dead in the eye.

"Let's do this."

With that said, Castiel reaches in and touches her soul. Jess lets out a scream so loud Harrison covers his ears with his hands, but watches in morbid fascination as Castiel does what he needs to before retracting his hand. Jess pants and sweats and cries, but she doesn't pass out.

"You are who you say you are…" Castiel says, complete shock written all over his face, "how in the world-"

"No time," Jess manages, clenching her jaw as a wave of pain flows through her. Her brain is complete wreck, unable to think of anything but pain, but somehow she manages to say, "We have to go."

Harrison stands up, knowing this is his moment to prove that he can, and will, save Sam Winchester. He moves in front of Castiel, much to the shock of the angel, and puts his hands on Jess's shoulders.

"This will only take a moment." He says, giving her a gentle smile. Jess merely nods, having lost the ability to speak as the pain takes over. The young boys fingers clench her shoulders and then, without warning, the pain is gone. In fact, she feels better than she has in weeks. She opens her eyes, Harrison grinning down at her despite the lines of sweat beading his forehead.

"Told you I'm a superhero." He jokes as he removes his shaking hands from her shoulders. He clenches his fists at his sides, attempting to rein it in, "Feeling better?"

Jess immediately nods, looking at the boy gratefully, "Definitely. Thank you. Um, do you mind?" She gestures to the ropes and he immediately leans down and unties her.

"How…" Castiel asks, eyebrows furrowed, "did you do that?"

Harrison continues to untie Jess as he speaks, "I was hit by a energy ball a few years ago. Some witch who had a thing against children. It's left me weak in some ways, but stronger in others. Mum thinks I'm a freak," Toni interrupts, saying that she doesn't and that she couldn't _ever_ think that, but Harrison merely ignores her and continues, "she's hidden me away in my bedroom under the pretense that I'm sick. Which, I guess, sometimes I do get sick. Really sick. But it's worth it to me, because while using my powers takes a lot out of me each time, I have to help people. I have to help _Sam_."

Castiel stands there in utter bafflement, unable to understand how such a heroic young boy came from such a crazy mother. Harrison stands up just as Castiel says, "Well, I guess there is only one thing left for us to do."

Jess stands up from the chair, stumbling a bit. Castiel goes to her side, steading her. She sends him a grateful smile, which he returns. He knows how long Sam has ached for the woman beside him, knows how Sam will feel to have her back. He only hopes they get back in time for him to cherish her presence.

"Let's go save Sam Winchester." Jess says, grinning despite Toni looking as if her world has just come to an end.

XXXXX

Dean startles out of sleep by a noise and immediately looks at his brother. Sam's still sweating, still looks paler than he ever has. No worse, but definitely no better. Dean grunts as he stands up, stretching. He glances at his watch, he hasn't been asleep for long. The bunker suddenly rattles and he hears shouting in the war room. He looks at Sam briefly before patting his chest and taking off in sprint towards the library.

"-you doing here?!" Maggie is shouting, "My god, it's finally happened. You've actually lost _all_ your marbles."

"Maggie," Her father scolds, however, doesn't contradict her.

"I have a good reason for being here, believe it or not!" A different British voice shouts, angrily, her fists clenching in her handcuffs.

"You always have a good reason-" Maggie starts, then notices Dean entering the room and sighs, "Here we go. You got us all murdered. Hope you're happy."

"What the hell is going on?" Dean exclaims, "Who the hell-Cas? Seriously, man, we are not a hotel."

Castiel walks up to Dean, "We need to talk."

"I would say so," Dean says sarcastically.

"This woman," Castiel starts, lowering his voice, "is the woman who kidnapped your brother-"

Dean's eyes dart towards the tall blonde woman who is holding a young boy while simultaneously shouting at Maggie and Timothy. He sees red. He nearly marches over there, when Castiel puts a hand on his chest, effectively stopping him.

"Cas, let me go," Dean says, voice calm and deadly serious. If Castiel was anyone else, he would have probably been terrified. "She _hurt_ my brother."

"I know, Dean, but listen to me-"

"No, Cas, you listen!" Dean exclaims, hours of restlessness, worry and anger finally finding a release, "She shot my brother, kidnapped him, took him to fucking _England_ and _tortured_ him. This bitch deserves what she has coming to her." He glares at the woman who merely rolls her eyes at him, angering him further.

"I _know,_ Dean _._ " Castiel says, seemingly irritated for being constantly interrupted. He squeezes Dean's shoulder, holding him back as best he can, "but listen to me. The boy. He can help save Sam."

"He… wait what'd you just say?" Dean looks at Cas and realizes he's serious, "How? And just who in the hell is this other chick?"

Castiel glances behind them, noticing Jess biting the inside of her cheek nervously. She glances at Castiel, gives him a worried smile.

XXXXXX

"Holy shit…" Dean finally says, after being caught up by Castiel, Harrison and, apparently, Jessica Moore, Sam's back from the dead girlfriend who just so happens to be in the wrong body. "I mean, seriously. Holy shit…"

"You're telling me," Jess snorts, shaking her head. Dean gives her a half-smile and she relaxes a little in her chair. Sam's going to lose his mind. That is, if what they're telling him is true. That they can save Sam before it's too late.

"Okay, so… how exactly can you help Sam again?" Dean questions the boy, "I mean, no offense, but you're just a kid…."

The young British boy rolls his eyes, reminding Dean so much of Sam at that age that his heart nearly stops, "I was hit by this…energy ball a few years ago. It gave me, uh, special powers. I can do things. Things that should be impossible. Things that will help me save Sam. I can take his pain away, I can remove the bullet."

"Ooookay," Dean drawls, "You sure about this? I mean-"

"I'm sure." Harrison interrupts, his young face tightening, "Mum hurt Sam for me. I can't just sit back and watch this happen to him, not when I can help."

Dean looks at Castiel who nods. He glances at Toni who looks like she might just pass out. Not that he really cares in the matter, but he finds himself asking, "So what will happen to Harrison if he does this?"

Toni sits up, eyes wide, "He will die."

"Mum-" Harrison interrupts, but she's on a roll now that she finally has her opportunity to make someone listen.

"He will die, he can't handle the power. He's too young, too fragile… too innocent. He can't do this." Toni rambles. Thomas and Maggie share a look with Harrison, who sighs.

"Mum…I've done this before." Harrison admits, "I can do this."

Toni's insane rambling comes to a stop as her son's words wash over her, "He's just a boy-what did you just say? You've done this before? When?" Her voice turns hysterical, "When did you do this?"

Harrison glances at Dean and Jess before finding comfort from his grandfather's hand on his shoulder. And then, he finally tells his mother everything. How she would leave him for months at a time in attempt to find a cure to "save" him from being a monster. When she did return, she would string up some poor person in the basement with the most recent form of the AHB. When she would leave, he would sneak downstairs and heal them. He would help them escape.

Toni stares at her son, wide-eyed in disbelief. After everything she's done for him, he's been hiding that he's been using his powers this whole time.

"I can't believe you…" She says, eyes overflowing with tears, "Why would you do that, Harrison?"

"I may be a kid, mum, but I'm not an idiot. You were doing bad things. For me! I couldn't make you see reason, I'm just a boy. And you're my mum. But I had to do _something_."

Toni turns away, unable to continue the conversation. Harrison turns away as well, into the comforting arms of his grandfather, who holds onto him tightly and whispers soothing words.

"Not to be a mood killer," Jess speaks up, "but Sam's kind of on a deadline here…"

Harrison nods, standing up. "I'm ready. Let's do it."

They all make their way to Sam's bedroom. Well, except Toni who is still handcuffed to a chair in the library. Harrison stands close to Sam's bedside while Castiel, Thomas, Maggie and Jess stand behind. Dean, meanwhile is on the other side, attempting to wake his mother.

"Mom," Dean says gently, "mom, wake up."

Mary's eyes flutter open, "Is it Sam? Is he ok?"

Dean smiles, "He will be. We have help, we just need you to be off the bed."

Mary wakes up a little more at that, "He'll be fine?"

Dean glances at Harrison who nods. "Yeah, he should be, but we gotta get you up, ok?"

Mary yawns, looking over at her youngest son and squeezing his arm before getting up. Dean and Mary walk around the other side of the bed.

"Who are you?" She asks Jess, eyes narrowed.

"She's here to help Sam, mom. We'll…talk about it after, ok?" Dean says, "Trust me."

Mary glances from the girl to the boy and then back to Dean, but finally nods. She moves to stand by Castiel, who merely awkwardly pats her on the back in what she assumes he thinks is reassuring. She gives him a smile.

"Ready, kid?" Dean asks, "Last chance to back out."

Not that Dean wants him to back out, but hey, this is a kid for crying out loud.

"I'm ready." Harrison says, "You might want to move back."

Dean steps back a step and waits.

Harrison sighs, as if readying himself, and then puts his hands on Sam. Sam's eyes immediately open, startling everyone in the room except for Maggie, Thomas and Harrison. Sam groans, but Harrison's eyes remain closed as he concentrates. His body lifts off the bed and the bullet comes flying out and hovers in the air. Sam's body drops back to the bed and the older hunter's breathing returns to normal. Harrison remains where he is and Dean watches in fascination as his brother's skin is mended back together. Once it is complete, Harrison still remains where he is.

Dean opens his mouth to ask what else he needs to do when Sam's eyes flutter open and he gasps. A purple like sludge pours out of Sam's ears, nose and mouth. Sam gags a little on the substance, but Thomas makes Dean stay where he is.

"The poison," Thomas says, "he's healing him of everything the bullet did. Everything Toni did."

They all watch for several minutes as the sludge continues out of Sam. Harrison's arms are now shaking with effort. Finally, the sludge stops and Harrison pulls away from Sam, breathing heavily. He looks up and gives Dean a grin. "It's done."


End file.
